Productivity & Marshmallow Fluff
by BoukieToo
Summary: (Avengers: First Movie Plot/Characters) Post-Avengers and Post-Deathly Hallows, Harry and Tony are dumped before they have the chance to ask a big question. When Harry leaves the UK for New York, who can he depend on? And why has Tony's apparent hate for a certain captain vanished? Stony and Drarry, possible Clintasha. (It's been taken over by Sayomina! See inside.)
1. In Which a Prologue Is Made

**WARNING! THIS IS AN EXPOSITIONAL PROLOGUE WITH NO [a tiny bit of] DIALOGUE!**

This is a story of two trios on opposite sides of the ocean. They were each strangers to the other, until one day when they collide.

In each world, two were in a happy relationship. The man had dark hair and mischievous eyes; the lady had ginger hair.

On one side, the woman had strawberry blond locks, and the man had dark chocolate, but on the other, her hair was crimson as a rose, and his, black as pitch.

The couples lived in wealth, for the men were heroes in their own rights, but the women were tired of cleaning up the messes the men left at home. They were sick of worrying endlessly as the heroes recklessly threw their lives on the line for their world.

There were two confrontations. The first happened on the highest balcony of Stark Tower in New York, USA. The second took place in a small house (dubbed "The Burrow") tucked away in the English countryside.

Two women asked two men if they could talk after dinner. They agreed heartily, finished their suppers quickly, and joined their loves outside (on the balcony, in the first couple's case). While both men were smart, they were woefully ignorant when it came to love.

They didn't notice the tears until it was too late. They didn't notice the rift that had been there from the start, but had only grown since they had met. With a parting word of farewell, the maidens gave them one last kiss on the cheek, before leaving the broken-hearted fellows alone in the cold.

Both men shivered, salty tracks tracing their way down their once-jovial faces. They sank to their knees, still gazing devastatedly in the direction of their beloveds. Tony Stark and Harry Potter broke their gazes bitterly, and drew boxes from their pockets. They opened the boxes, and looked down at the sparkling rings inside.

Nobody had officially seen Harry Potter since.

One might have been wondering about the final men of the trios. The blondes and the brunettes had had a long rivalry, but soon realized that they were both fighting for the same cause. This realization brought Steve and Tony together as a team, and Draco and Harry as almost-friends.

Before Harry had left Britain for the States, he had left a note. It wasn't long or elaborate, but it held forgiveness and heart, just as if the Boy Who Lived was there, talking with those he (had) loved.

Mrs. Weasley cried when she read it. Ron swore softly before retreating, and Ginny locked herself in her chambers, and refused to speak to anyone when she finally left to get food. Hermione happened to be staying at the Burrow at the time, and spent an hour trying to comfort Ron.

Draco (incidentally) had already disappeared to the other side of the pond. The public wizarding opinion was that any and all of the Malfoy name were cruel Death Eaters and deserved to be punished. Granted, Lucius _was_ a Death Eater, and so was Draco, but the younger had been branded against his will. Narcissa wasn't even on a side until the end of the war.

Harry had spoken with him briefly in between the break-up and Draco's voyage. They were much better for the talk, and the Slytherin consoled Harry as only he could: with an awkward pat on the shoulder and a few muttered words of eventual revenge.

Harry never actually knew where Draco had disappeared to. When the man had vanished, he had respected his privacy and left it alone. _Perhaps,_ he remembered thinking, _I'll see him again on my travels._ Somehow, the thought of catching those platinum locks somewhere in France or Italy was comforting, even compelling.

Over the months, Tony convinced the team to move into his tower.

"My apartment is three blocks away!"

"I don't think you want the Other Guy messing up your tower, Tony."

"What's that you say? Free food? I'm in!"

"You are never to set foot on my floor unless you want a Widow's Bite to the arc reactor."

"You are most hospitable, Son of Stark. My thanks."

Tony's responses:

"Well now you're three blocks closer, Cap. See? That was easy."

"I've already prepped a Hulk-out room. Also, Candyland, Brucie. Candyland."

"Who said there was- *sigh* fine. Free food, birdbrain. Happy?"

"*le gasp* I wouldn't dare! It's Clint you're gonna have to watch out for. He lives in the realm of vents."

(Thor: "What is this realm of vents? I must see it at once!" [He got stuck.])

"No problem, big guy. Bring your brother, too."

Loki did eventually show up (much to his chagrin), still pouting from Asgard. Tony and Clint took every opportunity to prank and provoke the trickster, and suffered the (albeit magical) consequences.

Meanwhile, Harry was successfully running his own local café (The Patronus) a few streets away. Fitting in as a muggle was a tad difficult at first, and he couldn't help but wonder why the American city needed rebuilding when it was Britain that was attacked by Voldemort.

He also owned the apartment above, and when Hermione and/or Ron secretly visited, he always had a room or two open. It didn't happen very often, but the Chosen One was glad for the isolation and anonymity.

The treats he baked were delicious, and those few who found the cozy place were almost guaranteed to come back. He worked by himself, enjoying the solitude and warmth from the regulars.

He often caught the blazing _A_ left on the one of the highest towers, but he always assumed it was just an office building. Harry didn't listen to Muggle news. There weren't any electronics in The Patronus. Even the lights originated from several mismatched candles lining the walls, or from strategically placed ones on various tables. The only other illumination streamed in from the windows. (Harry made an electronics exception for the coffee machine, but the oven baked with fire.)

Harry and Steve had met unknowingly, for The Patronus was his favorite café, but he (like everybody else) knew Harry as James Evans. (The good captain had never revealed his full name, just Steve.) Steve's favorite drink was the _Sirius Black Tea_. Tacky? Yes. Worth it? Definitely.

Nobody ever knew where Steve disappeared to on Sunday mornings; Tony just assumed it was church or some such convention. In fact, the café was rather difficult to find if one didn't know where to look. None of the Avengers knew about James Evans, nor did "James" hear a breath about the Avengers. And that was how they lived: two disgraced heroes laying low, two distant friends, and two upset women who slowly melted away.


	2. In Which Introductions Are Made

**Chapter One: In Which Introductions Are Made**

 **Merry Christmas!**

Though satisfaction was not in Loki's nature, curiosity sure was in Tony's.

After a few weeks of Steve's disappearances, the inventor had found a movie for the team to watch.

"Guys!" he hollered like the child he was, breaking the drowsy peace of the Sunday morning's living room. Upon hearing the bright (albeit unnecessarily loud) voice, Bruce and Thor perked up, but Clint groaned, nursing a throbbing headache from the previous night.

 _Deep inside, Clint knew it was a bad idea from the word go._

" _This will not end well," Steve had warned them. Inwardly, the archer had agreed, but Clinton Francis Barton never backed down from a challenge, or so he told himself in the mirror at 3:00 in the morning when he needed a boost of self-esteem. So when Tony proposed a trip to the trampoline park, who was he to refuse? After all, he had grown up in a circus. Acrobatics was his thing._

 _The billionaire had rented out the entire park specifically for them. He said, of course, that it was so that no civilians would be injured if something happened, but they all knew better. With Tony, it wasn't all or nothing; it was all or find a way to get it all._

 _The place seemed abandoned, with a seemingly endless grid of trampolines, and a pit of foam cubes spanning the left wall. The lights had been dimmed to nearly-pitch, except for the very front where they had entered. To be fair, it was 10:46 at night, but the park gave off an eerie air of a phantom-infested attic, just waiting for one to let his/her guard down._

 _This, of course, was why the ecstatic genius loved it so much._

" _All right. Who wants a bounce-off?" he queried, voice echoing through the gargantuan room. Clint agreed instantly, stepping onto the first trampoline with enthusiasm. Thor, Nat, and Loki also joined, but Bruce and Steve moved to the other end of the room to enjoy themselves without hurting anyone._

 _Each person would get two bounces to warm up, and then do a flip or something similar, then land impressively. At least, that was how it was supposed to go, but it eventually ended in aerial sparring._

 _Thor, who wasn't the lightest on his feet, could bounce the highest, and soon it became a matter of who could catch up to him. Loki, to his sorrow, was forbidden his magic, and so jumped the lowest. Natasha, while extremely flexible, didn't have the circus training that Clint did, and so Hawkeye came the closest._

 _It happened so fast that Clint couldn't have stopped it even if he tried. Thor had decided that the game had begun to bore him, and so lowered his altitude at the same time the poor archer upped his own. Their heads collided with a resounding_ _ **crack!**_ _Thor_ — _being the solid mass of muscle that he was—was only pushed back a bit, and slowed to a stop looking mildly confused. Poor Clint, on the other hand, ricocheted into the wall, and slid into the pit, consciousness slipping. The last thing he felt was a pair of wiry arms lifting him gently from the abyss. (He was never told who had done that, but he had his suspicions.)_

Luckily, he was only bruised in a few places, but that didn't stop him from grumbling when he stumbled into the living room the next morning and saw the mighty god of thunder sipping some hot chocolate without a scratch.

"Okay, so I have the _perfect_ movie to watch!" Tony enthused, waving his hands dramatically through the air.

"Oh no, you don't," Natasha interjected. "The last time you said that, we watched The Avengers. Honestly?" "Hey, it was funny!"

The good doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, hope for a peaceful day fading fast. "No, actually. It was rated one of the worst films of the 1990's." "And that pun is terrible," Clint continued. "Brucie's just too polite to say so."

"Even I didn't enjoy viewing the moving pictures," Thor added helpfully.

"Come on!" Tony whined, sidling up behind Loki and silently begging for support. "It had Sean Connery in it. Who can refuse James Bond?"

"Us," the trickster stated complacently, face twisting into a faint smirk.

"Well, that's…" Tony struggled for an adequate comeback. " ...not important. Where's the Capsicle? He needs to catch up."

They collectively thought for a moment—they could practically hear the Jeopardy music playing—before Bruce answered, "I don't know; I just always thought he just went to church on Sundays or something."

Clint snorted. "Yeah, he seems like the saint-type. Does he even tell anybody where he goes?"

"No," the rest chorused, glancing in mild surprise at each other. It seemed that either nobody else went to church or Steve was just really lucky when it came to keeping secrets.

"Maybe he has a date." "Maybe he does stuff for SHIELD." "Every Sunday morning?" "Is it not possible that he disappears for his own enjoyment?" "What does he even do? Reminisce? Visit retirement homes? Give candy and autographs to orphans?"

"Let us find out," Thor declared, ceasing the commotion with his rumbling. "Voice in the ceiling-" "-JARVIS, his name's JARVIS-" "-please show us Friend Steven's location."

There was a moment of whirring, and then an intricate holographic map appeared before them. _It seems that Mr. Rogers is only a couple blocks away, in The Patronus café across from his apartment. According to street security footage, Mr. Rogers seems to visit regularly._

"The Patronus? Huh. Thanks, J. The Patronus…" Tony muttered, as though he knew the name from somewhere, but eventually gave up, sitting down. "Weird name. Have any of you been there?"

After receiving answers in the negative, he looked at the clock. "Well, it's 10:45 now," he declared, standing up and rubbing his hands together. "We can grab some brunch there, pick Steve up, and come back for the movie."

Hearing no objections, Clint grabbed Natasha's hand, pulling her to the elevator. The rest followed suit, making their way down to the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

 _ **PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF**_

"James Evans" loved his job.

Bantering with the customers, especially that Steve bloke, beat defeating dark lords any day. He'd only recently discovered a talent for cooking, which he attributed to several years of service in the Dursley's kitchen. Not only did James seem to have a gift for cooking (baking mostly), he'd found that it was something he truly enjoyed. Two months after moving to America, he started his café.

"Morning," he called to Steve, who was always the first to enter. "Rough week at your very mysterious workplace?"

"You could say that again. How are you?"

"Brilliant. You look like you could use something stronger than a hot chocolate, Steve."

"I told you, coffee does nothing for me! I might have to steal a scone, though."

James grinned genially. "No stealing. I'll wrap one up for you when the new batch comes out. So, what's ailing you? Mischievous co-workers? Bad run-in with the boss?"

"Nah, just a _very_ long week, though some of my colleagues do tend to be a bit 'mischievous', as you say." Steve thought happily of the time when Tony and Clint had dive-bombed Loki with water balloons while he'd been reading. It was lucky that no damage had come to the book, or they might have needed to replace two-thirds of their team.

"I can relate," smiled James, recalling his fifth year at Hogwarts with the Weasley twins. Vaguely, he wondered how George's shop was doing. There was a rumor that Ron would be joining him. James hoped that meant a discount as Ron's best mate.

 _Not that I could visit. Maybe I can Floo in after hours. Or ask Ron for some by owl. Or-_

The door burst open, and six other people crowded into the shop at once. The leading man was a short brunette with an intricate goatee adorning his features. Behind him was a slightly taller man with a worn face and barely blue eyes, and a redheaded woman who reminded the shop owner of Ginny with shorter hair and no freckles. Ending the parade of strangers was a very tall, muscly blonde, a curly-haired, meek-looking man, and an imperious, thin, raven-haired fellow who looked like he was staring into one's soul.

"Good morning," the surprised owner greeted, regaining his wits. It wasn't often that anybody came in when Steve did, or that more than four people were in the shop at the same time. "I can take your orders. There's a fresh batch of scones in the oven if-"

"Steve!" the leading man shouted. "So this is where you hide every Sunday morning. How come we weren't invited?"

James grinned. "Are these your _mysterious, mischievous co-workers_ I hear so much yet so little about?"

Steve scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Uh, yeah. Hey, guys. Was there a call? Do they need us to, ah, work?"

"Nah," his friend replied. "Just checking up on you. You know," he said, redirecting his attention to James, "most people would've begun to fangirl by now. What gives?"

The Ginny look-alike slapped the man upside the head. James frowned. "I'm sorry, should I know you?"

Now the man looked positively indignant. "You don't know who I- you don't- what?" he spluttered. "I'm Tony-freaking-Stark!"

Now surely this was some sort of joke. How was James supposed to know who this man was? "I'm sorry, that doesn't ring a bell, but it's nice to meet you. Now, if I can get your names and orders-"

"You don't know us? Any of us?" Clint asked. "SHIELD, the Avengers, Loki, anything?"

Later, the archer could have sworn he heard a muttered, _"Always the tone of surprise."_

"Ah, no, sorry. Isn't Loki that god from the Norse legend? I looked through some of those sort of things in our school library once when a friend of mine was forcing me to study."

"You didn't hear about the alien invasion?"

He hesitated. "I- uh, I don't really pay attention to the mug- to the news."

"Dude," Clint interjected. "Where have you been? Camping under a rock?"

He wasn't exactly reassured by James' grin. It seemed curiously nostalgic as he replied, "In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

Bruce cleared his throat, saving the wizard. "Um, hi. I'm Bruce Banner. It's nice to meet you." He paused, lowering his voice. "I am so, so sorry. It's just not often that Tony comes across a sane person who is not a fan."

"Er, right," James replied after a moment. "So, I'll need your names and orders then."

"Steve Rogers," the captain began with a grin, "and you already have my order."

James nodded, and beckoned the others.

"Bruce Banner; just a scone, please."

"Clint Barton; nothing, thanks."

"Natasha Romanoff; a tall black coffee would be fine."

"I am Thor, son of Odin, and I would like a circular pastry with the triangles of chocolate!" (It took a translation to realize that he meant chocolate chip cookies.)

"Loki, and I'd appreciate the Sirius Black Tea." ("So you're that mythology bloke. You and… Thor, was it? Anyways, nice choice." The nostalgic grin was back.)

"And, though you should already know, I am the one and only Tony Stark, and I need as much coffee as humanly possible. Black, with an entire pitcher of sugar, mind you."

Once again, the newly dubbed Natasha smacked the man, but this time, Clint joined her.

"Right. Well, my name's James. Sit down, and get comfortable. That's what all the pillows are for, and I'd hate to see them go to waste." James scrawled the last order on a little notepad and, when he was sure the customers weren't looking, began magically moving, using, and cleaning equipment.

He, unlike the many who worked with others and had no reason to talk to their customers, liked getting to know the people he served. Oftentimes, one could catch him grabbing a hot chocolate, sitting down, and conversing good-naturedly with his customers.

"So, what do you all do?" he asked light-heartedly. He assumed that they were some agency that was world-famous for something or other, not knowing how close he was to the truth.

The heroes all glanced at each other hesitantly.

James took the hint. "Oh, I'm sorry. You don't have to say… if you can't talk about it-"

"No!" they all cried in unison, looking at each other. "It's just, well, we kinda sorta save the world for a living."

They looked expectantly at James, who had an eyebrow raised, but lowered it, and softened his expression before saying, "Well, at least you'll never go out of business. Do they call you something?"

"Well…"

The next half-hour was spent getting to know each other in the most evasive way possible. Certain questions were met with awkward silences, others with smooth, roundabout almost-lies.

Finally, there was a _tap-tap_ on the front window. There, the team spotted an owl of all things, clutching a note in its tiny beak.

"Pig?" James muttered. _Pig?_ Thor thought. _Midgardian pigs seem to differ somewhat from our porcine creatures._ Upon voicing his thoughts, he was met with a laugh.

"Oh, he's not a pig," James explained, retrieving the bird, and retaking his seat. "He's my friend Ron's owl. His real name is Pigwidgeon. Gin- his sister named him." A flash of hurt played across his face. Each person caught it, but said nothing as he smiled, and opened the letter.

Absentmindedly dropping a strange coin into the outstretched talons, he read:

 _Harry,_

 _Floo today, as soon as you read this. Ron and I have important news for you. Ginny will be at the Burrow, though. Try to be happy when she's around. Molly misses you, we all do._

 _We stopped by Hogwarts the other day. Headmistress McGonagall sends her love. So does "Professor" Neville. He's trying to crossbreed a Mandrake and a Venomous Tentacula. So far, all it does is wail at or ensnare anybody who comes close._

 _Send Pigwidgeon back_

 _Lots of love,_

 _Hermione_

Crumpling and dropping the letter, James politely excused himself. "I have to take this," he smiled, standing up. "It was very nice meeting you. See you next Sunday!" He directed his last sentence at Steve, disappearing upstairs.

The Avengers stayed a minute longer, surprised by the abrupt departure, before leaving the café. Looking back, however, it was gone.

 _ **PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF**_

Upon arriving in the Tower, Tony turned to face the others.

"Steve," he said hesitantly, "what's the name of that café owner again?"

"James Evans," Steve replied. "Why?"

In answer, he held up a very familiar crumpled piece of paper.

"Because his name isn't James," he said. "It's Harry."


	3. In Which Arrangements Are Made

**Chapter Two: In Which Arrangements are Made and Measures Taken**

James Evans did not exist.

Much to Tony's irritation, no 'James Evans' was found on any record in the U.S. He even tried cross-referencing the false identity with the name 'Harry', but no dice.

And honestly, what was with the pig owl? That guy was in dire need of a phone. Actually, that would have made Tony's job a whole lot easier.

He straightened up, hearing footsteps outside of his lab. It was Steve, but looking behind him, Tony spotted the whole crew. Apparently, everybody was curious as to who their café owner really was.

"Let them in, J," Tony ordered tiredly, shutting the screen down.

"I don't know what to tell you," Bruce was saying, running his hand through his hair. "I followed your directions, but the café simply isn't there anymore."

"He's right," Tony supported. "I hacked the street cams. It's not there. People pass right on by, and nobody goes in or out because it's gone. I don't know how, but our 'Harry' is quite the little magic-maker." He sat back down, pulling the screen up once again, and speaking rapidly.

"I've trekked through the official records, SHIELD records, everything. He's not there. He's a disappearing act. Charming on the outside, but he'd do anything to keep a secret."

"I don't buy it," Natasha cut in. "Why would he let us know?" 

"Maybe it was out of his control?" Bruce suggested quietly.

"No," Clint interjected. "If he's willing to disappear, he should be willing to make sure we never go after him. He even went to lengths to vanish from all records, _SHIELD's_ records. Something's wrong with this picture." 

"Wait." Thor stopped, looking at his comrades. "Why is it that this Harry-James mortal is of importance to us?"

"And there," declared Loki from where he'd been hiding at the back of the group, "is your problem. The thing is, I do not believe he is mortal—"

An uproar burst forth before he could answer, and so he waited for them to calm before continuing.

"Let me rephrase: I do not believe he is _completely_ mortal. This man emanates this signature that differs slightly from what mortals tend to exude." He looked pointedly at Thor, "It's a pity you didn't pay attention to your academic education, Thor. That was one of our first lessons. No wonder we were ambushed in Jotunheim—"

He was cut off by a meaty fist locking itself around his throat, pinning him against the wall.

"We do not speak of that cursed realm, nor those creatures that inhabit it," Thor growled. As Loki struggled, gasping, the temperature dropped. Noticing the sudden change, the older god shivered, releasing his brother, who lifted a hand to brush the bruises already forming a blue loop around his throat.

Because Thor turned away, he didn't see the hurt that flashed across Loki's face. He didn't see his lips mouth _those creatures_ , or the way Loki looked down at his hands, as though they would burn any who touched them.

So of course he didn't care when his not-brother left the room, the only evidence that he was there being a solitary flake of frozen water on the arm of the chair he'd just occupied.

 **PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF**

Harry Potter stumbled through the fireplace, into the waiting warmth of the Burrow.

"Harry!" Molly shrieked, turning from her cooking. "Darling, you gave me quite a fright. It's been so long—look at you, you're so thin—and you're just in time for an early supper. I'm so happy you came to visit. Just look how tall you are!"

"Thanks, Molly. How are you? How's everybody?"

"Oh, we're fine. Ginny's improving; she's got a boyfriend. Dean, I think his name was… Anyways, Andromeda will be here too. She's— well, I'll let her explain."

Leading Harry into the dining room, Molly moved away just in time.

"HARRY!"

He was engulfed in tangled arms and waves of hair. Pulling away, he gasped for breath. Luckily, he didn't have to talk; the Weasleys did it for him.

Hermione laughed. "I see you got Pigwidgeon's note, then. Oh, it's been _ages_!"

"Two months," he grinned. "Not counting the letter correspondence. You almost caught me out in front of a bunch of muggles!"

"Right, the _muggle world_ ," Ron exclaimed in faux awe, waving his hands in emphasis. "Dad had a field day when you opened shop, do you remember? Said he wanted to join you, but you gave him a cellphone for his birthday and he left you alone… How are your muggles?"

Harry snorted, sitting down at the table. " _'My muggles'_ are fine," he replied. "Steve's apparently a famous hero or something in the States. He's got a crew, too. It was rather hilarious when confessed to one man—Stark, I think his name was—that I had no idea who he was."

"Muggle heroes. Did they survive a killing curse as a baby?"

"Did they live most of their lives abused and under the stairs with unfit guardians who shouldn't have been their guardians in the first place?"

"Was their proper guardian framed for the murder of several muggles and thought responsible for the deaths of their parents?"

"Did they defeat a dark lord who had tortured and killed thousands at the age of seventeen?"

"Are they masters and finders of the most unique and powerful magical items on the planet?"

Harry laughed at Ron and George's antics. They fired each question alternatively, almost as though Ron was trying to take the place of Fred. If George noticed, he didn't let on, and that was good enough.

"Ah, no," he admitted. "But two of them are supposedly gods."

"Oh, mighty gods," Ron gasped, standing up in his chair. "Let us bow down to these entities of ultimate power!" This sent the two brothers into indignant laughter as if to say, _"Muggles? Please!"_

"Ronald, behave yourself," Hermione admonished.

He grinned sheepishly with a muffled, "I bet you could take 'em," but the smile faded slowly as Ginny entered the dining room.

Harry turned, taking in his ex-lover, who didn't seem quite as lovely as before. With every visit, her beauty diminished slightly, as though she was falling apart, or he being slowly disillusioned.

Well, it could be—

 _No,_ he thought, _that was years ago. He was just an infatuation, nothing more._

 _Why doesn't she look beautiful to me anymore?_ _I still love Ginny. Don't I?_

"Harry," she said hesitantly. "It's— nice to see you again." He could practically feel the ice in her voice, and forced himself not to flinch.

"Hello, Ginny," he murmured. "You look as exquisite as ever."

It was a lie, but she didn't catch it. As far as he could tell, nobody did.

As the family sat down, he muttered, "Yes. Yes, I do love her."

"What was that?" Arthur asked, taking his place at the head of the table. He didn't receive an answer, for Molly entered the room, following a barrage of plates stacked with hearty food, and goblets overflowing with butterbeer and firewhiskey.

"Dinner!" she sang, and with a final flick of her wand, the feast was placed on the table. Cheers rang through the room, and soon no one spoke, for their mouths were stuffed with meat, bread, and potatoes.

 **PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF**

Thor didn't notice Loki leaving, but the others did.

"Thor, what's— Yoh-ton-highm?" Steve asked.

"Jotunheim is a frigid, frozen realm, and home of the frost giants." He shuddered in disgust, and continued.

"They are brutal, hideous, and our worst enemies. I used to want to slay them all, so much so that I led us to war. Thankfully, the Allfather made peace, but not before Loki slayed the Jotun king, who was about to assassinate Father while he was in the Odinsleep."

"Okay," Tony said after a moment. "That was too many levels of crazy for me to handle."

"To a Midgardian, it is confusing," Thor conceded, "but one becomes used to the 'crazy', as you put it.

"In any case, I was banished to Midgard to learn pride, and found that I should not seek war with any race. Loki had yet to understand that, and so he plotted to destroy the Jotuns to appease Father.

"It was during that time when Loki learned that he was adopted," he continued. "I am not sure as to who he was adopted from—that was never confided to me—but I believe it was that fact that shook his mental stability. His plan failed, and he fell into the Void between realms, not to be heard from until his attack on Midgard."

"Yeesh," Clint sighed. "You know I hate siding with Loki on anything, but that's a ton of stuff to deal with in one go."

"Speaking of long-winded answers," Tony cut in, "I have a question for Cap. Why didn't you tell him who you were?"

"Because that was what made coming there amazing." Steve answered without missing a beat, but looked as though he hadn't realized that until just then.

He continued, "Anonymity made it impossible to judge, not that Ja—Harry would. He never pried into anything, and there was never an awkward moment of, 'So, you're famous…' It was just two people talking over a drink every Sunday morning."

"Watch yourself, Rogers," Natasha rebuked teasingly. "You make it sound like you're dating the poor man."

This caused him to flush, and the others to laugh. Tony regarded the man, looking so red, and couldn't help but smile. One could always count on Steve to have the innocence of a child, and it made him devastatingly easy to mess with.

Tony decided that he rather liked Steve for it.

 **PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF**

Andromeda arrived about half an hour later.

She greeted Harry warmly with a grandmotherly hug, and said, "Harry! Oh, it's so good to see you! And look who decided to tag along…"

Out from behind her scrambled a three-year-old boy, whose hair shocked blue as he saw his godfather.

"Uncle 'arry!" he screeched, and Harry scooped him up in his arms, spinning him around as he giggled. Harry had decided on 'Uncle' as his title, for 'Daddy' hit too close to home for his taste.

"Actually, Harry, Teddy and I have something to discuss with you," Andromeda said after sitting down to join the rest in the living room.

"It's a matter of custody, you see," Molly explained while Teddy bounced up and down in Andromeda's lap, hair flashing excitedly. "Technically, you are his godfather, so Andromeda's custody is invalid." *

"We've already discussed this," Harry said tiredly. "As much as I love him, I can't take care of Teddy in the States. I don't have the money or the ability."

"Well, I have a solution," suggested Andromeda, "If you could visit Gringotts with me, we can sign off main custody to me, and I can take care of Teddy. We can visit the States once every two weeks or so, if you'd like."

"That sounds perfect, Annie, thank you," he sighed, relieved. "We'll go after dinner, shall we?"

The woman nodded in agreement, and they resumed normal chatter until Harry asked, "Hermione, you wrote in your letter that you had something to tell me."

"Oh, yes," she recalled from where she sat, cuddled next to Ron. "Well, the other day, Ron took me out to Fortescue's—you know how that place re-opened a few months ago—and we're getting engaged!"

Harry was overjoyed for them. "Wow! Congratulations, you two! You better invite me to the wedding."

"Don't worry mate," reassured Ron. "You're the best man."

"Really?" he gasped, feeling happier than he had been in a long time. "That's— that's wonderful, thank you! I am more than honored."

"No one could be better," smiled the pair, enveloping him in a massive hug.

"Have I ever told you," Harry remarked, pulling away from the couple, and placing Teddy on his own lap, "How much I love this family?"

"Only every time you visit, dear," chuckled Molly, grabbing the Floo powder from the mantle, and tossing it into the elephantine fireplace. "Now, hurry along, Harry! Gringotts will be closing soon. We'll miss you!"

Andromeda stepped into the green flames, with Teddy in tow. Harry stayed behind, and with one foot in the fire, called, "Thanks, Molly, for the dinner. Goodbye, everyone!"

The family waved and hollered their farewells, and Harry Potter vanished.

 **PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF**

Persistence was what made the difference in the end.

" _Tony, we checked the place two weeks ago. It's not there."_

" _Correction, Brucie: you drove past it at 60 mph. There is definitely a chance that you missed it."_

" _Okay, fine. Go, but if it's not there, you owe us dinner."_

" _Are you kidding, Steve? You just signed our death warrants. Make him get us Stark Phones instead."_

" _Square deal, birdbrain."_

" _Love you too, tin man."_

Now, there Tony stood, in the brisk early morning with the team (sans Loki, who had disappeared into his room) behind him, and a smug grin on his face.

"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide in presentation of the café.

"Fine, Stark. We're sorry, okay?" Steve snapped, fed up with his arrogant nature.

"Geez, Rogers. Who woke up in the wrong patch of the ice this morning?"

The thing about The Patronus was that the door was always open, so only thing that kept the normally placid captain from strangling the little prick was the sound of singing from inside of the shop.

" _Hold on to me as we go,"_ intoned Harry, beginning his routine by somehow lighting all of the candles at once.

" _As we roll down this unfamiliar road_

 _And although this wave—"_

Tony couldn't help but join in for the harmonized word, even though he was shushed frantically. Luckily, he was quiet enough.

"— _wave—"_

"— _is stringing us along_

 _Just know you're not alone  
'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home."_

Harry began to bang lightly on the pots and pans, breaking the silence of the quiet street. __

 _"Settle down, it'll all be clear  
Don't pay no mind to the demons  
They fill you with fear  
The trouble—it might drag you down  
If you get lost, you can always be found  
_

Suddenly, from upstairs, a tot with electric-blue locks of wild hair toddled down the steps, joining in with a childish warble.

 _Just know you're not alone…"_

He scooped the kid up in his arms, spinning him, while continuing the tune.

 _"'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home_

 _Ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo. Oo-oo-oo-oo_

 _Ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo. Oo-oo-oo-oo_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa. Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa. Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa. Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa. Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa…"_

They crooned together, and even though the child's pronunciation was impaired, it turned the melody sweet instead of sour.

" _Settle down, it'll all be clear  
Don't pay no mind to the demons  
They fill you with fear  
The trouble it might drag you down  
If you get lost, you can always be found_

 _Just know you're not alone  
'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home_

 _Come on!"  
_

By this time, all of the Avengers were humming along from their hiding place/vantage point.

 _"Ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo. Oo-oo-oo-oo_

 _Ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo, Oo-oo-oo-oo_

 _Ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo, Oo-oo-oo-oo_

 _Ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo, Oo-oo-oo-oo_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa, Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa, Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa, Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa_

 _Aaa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa, Aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa"_

Harry ended the song with a cup of coffee for himself, and a hot chocolate mug for the little guy.

"Good morning, cub. Annie dropped you off early," he yawned, ruffling the kid's hair. Thor could've sworn he saw his mane flash black at the contact, but dismissed it.

"'Morning, Uncle 'arry! Gran said I could come 'lone this time!" the kid squeaked, foam dripping down his little chin.

"Oh, Teddy!" Harry rolled his eyes, and with mock exasperation, wiped the froth away with a napkin. "What will I do with you?"

"Go to park?" asked Teddy sweetly.

(" _The_ park, kid," Tony corrected, and was promptly slapped across the face.)

"So manipulative," Harry teased. "It's been four years to the day, but I still see your father every day in you." He sighed, helping the toddler from his chair. "Fine. Let's go to the park."

"Yay! Park!" the kid squealed, running out of the café without warning.

There was almost no time to get out of the way. As it was, it still felt like the child saw them, but said nothing.

Grinning tiredly, Harry jogged after his son— _No, Teddy said 'Uncle', so he's his nephew,_ Steve thought, marveling at their relationship—and disappeared into the early morning mist.

Silently, without even thinking, the team followed.

 **Yay! *claps* I did it! The song is Home by Phillip Phillips, and I felt it was appropriate. If you haven't heard it yet, take some time to do so.**

" **It's been four years to the day…" since what? I think you know!**

 *** I don't actually know a thing about child custody, so just play along for now, please.**

 **Thank you all so much for your support! ~BoukieToo**


	4. In Which Discoveries Are Made

**Chapter Three: In Which Discoveries Are Made**

It was too early in the morning to be stalking people.

Tony hadn't had any sleep last night—he usually went for days on end without sleeping—and the fatigue was starting to take its toll.

The problem was that the park was a mile or so away, and while it was easy for the others (who were in peak physical condition [sans Bruce]) to keep pace with the dark-haired man and the miniature energy bomb, he was having a tougher time.

Finally, Steve slowed, allowing the others to pass him, and slung the protesting billionaire over his—very broad, now that he thought about it—shoulders.

"Steeeeeve!" he wailed, a long, drawn-out sound that alerted the others to his predicament. Instead of helping, however, they laughed, and a petulant, pouting Tony could've sworn he heard a "Called it!" from Clint.

From his rather comfortable vantage point, Tony looked behind him. Bruce, ever the clever one, had decided that his pride was stronger than his curiosity, and left to make sure Loki hadn't turned everything within a mile radius of himself a shocking pink (again).

In the tumult that was Tony's intense struggle to be back on the ground, they had lost Harry, but fortunately for them, the park was only a street or so away.

"I have seen this park once before," Thor remarked. "It was a month ago, when dear Jane visited. She wanted to take a stroll with me in the park. At first, I was confused, but then she presented me with creamed ice of the strawberry flavor. Since then, I have rather liked these parks."

"Yes, very enlightening," grumbled Tony from his compromising position. Steve still hadn't put him down, even though they had arrived. It was possible that he'd simply forgotten Tony's weight.

"Can you let me go, then?" the poor billionaire asked, for while he wasn't tired of the view, the constant motion was making him dizzy.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Steve replied sheepishly, blushing slightly in embarrassment, and drawing muffled giggles from the rest as he dropped Tony unceremoniously at his feet.

Looking up, a very disheveled Tony realized for the first time how towering the captain was. The guy was at least half a foot taller, and when he glanced around, Tony found (infuriatingly) that while Cap was the tallest of the team, he was the smallest.

Grumbling, he pulled himself up, ignoring the hand extended to him, and pushed past the well-meaning blond. Steve watched him walk away, looking like a kicked puppy, but eventually followed.

"Why are we even following this guy anyway?" Tony groused, once again falling to the back of the pack.

"Because this man is on SHIELD's _Persons of Interest_ list," Natasha explained, and everybody stopped in his or her tracks.

"WHAT?" Tony spluttered, gawking bug-eyed at her. "But I hacked into— I mean, _checked_ those records myself!"

"That's because they're filed on the only material Tony Stark can't hack:" she answered smugly, "paper."

"Cheater," he accused crossly, continuing to search the park. "So, why is Harry Something-or-other on the _PoI_ list?" (He pronounced it "poi".)

Rolling his eyes at the acronym, Clint replied, "We don't know. The only person who does is Fury. We just follow our orders: find the person(s), bring them in, question them/convince them to help us, and let them go." *

"Well, that's stupid," Tony replied mulishly. "No wonder SHIELD almost executed Phase Two under your noses."

Clint scoffed. "Like you know anything about orders," he sniped, turning away as if simultaneously winning the argument and dropping the subject.

Tony conceded to that point, remembering a similar argument between him and a certain former idol. (Hint: he was tall, blond, and not a Norse god.)

"Fine," he grunted. "Let's bring him in."

"Wait," Rogers interjected. "If we're bringing him in, we do so on my terms.

"First off, he needs to know we're doing it. No surprise attacks, agents.

"Secondly, he is not to be harmed unless it's absolutely necessary, and when I say 'absolutely', I _mean_ absolutely. The child is not to be touched. Understand?"

They nodded, the SHIELD agents somewhat reluctantly, and continued in their efforts to track down man. [read: SHIELD target]

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

At least the day had _started_ off nicely.

Harry's would-be stalkers were rather loud when following him, and it was all he could do to keep from whirling around and asking what in Merlin's name they thought they were doing.

Even Teddy knew they were there; after entering the park, he'd swerved closer to Harry, whispering, "Who're the pretty aliens behind us, Uncle 'arry?" The poor wizard had had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, and instead had told him that they were customers.

"Why're they following us, then?" the four-year-old had asked persistently. **

Harry had decided to give his godson an honest answer. "I really don't know, cub. Maybe they want to ask us something."

Five minutes later, when nothing changed, Harry decided to confront them himself. He sent Teddy to play on the swings, out of earshot, and turned around so he was facing one sheepish look, two reluctant and guilty expressions, and two masks of indifference at their being caught.

"You five are terrible at tailing a person," he began, looking each of them in the eyes, willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. "Even Teddy had figured it out by the time we reached the park entrance."

Tony nudged Clint with a muttered, "Teddy?" The archer responded with an annoyed, "The kid, Stark." "Oh."

"So," Harry questioned, "do you lot have something to ask me, or do you always spend your mornings stalking people you've only just met two weeks ago?"

Now even Clint was starting to crack.

"Harry 'James' Evans, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me," he stated, somewhat apologetically.

"Why?" he asked, eyes full of innocent bemusement. He wasn't even accusatory.

"Have I done something wrong?"

Now the Avengers looked plain guilty, except for Natasha, and even she was slipping slightly. This man had done _nothing_ except for being friendly and asking a question, and she had been about to knock him out for the sake of orders.

 _Still,_ she thought, _orders are still orders. This man must be dangerous if he's on the list._ Anybody who was on that list was either dead or recruited, and the two agents hoped this time it would be the latter.

They advanced as he took a step back, forehead creasing slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said hesitantly, the slightest panic edging its way into his voice. "Can we talk about this?"

"You are wanted by the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division," Natasha droned, as was standard protocol.

"The Strategic what? I don't know what you're—"

"Oh, but I think you do, Mr. Evans. Please step forward with your hands raised—"

"—Natasha, you don't have to—"

"—and we will escort you to Headquarters, where you will be put under interrogation. Am I understood?"

Harry began to look openly nervous, backing protectively closer to Teddy, who had stopped playing to look at the pretty aliens who looked scary now.

"I'm not exactly sure I want to go with you," he started, but before he could complete his thought, the ever-heroic Teddy charged up to the scary aliens, babbling, "Stay 'way from Uncle 'arry!"

The older man turned to remove his godson from danger, and as he did so, Clint found the opportunity to shoot a hypodermic needle into Harry's pale flesh.

As he fell and looked into the eyes of the American he trusted the most, his last slurred words before he succumbed to the drug were, "Don't… let them… touch… Teddy…" With that, he slumped to the ground, the child crying out for his "Uncle 'arry".

As the four-year-old looked up at the aliens, his hair instinctively darkened to a pitch-black mess, and his features softened into those similar to Andromeda's, not that the Avengers would know.

Steve slowly turned to face his colleagues, his horror-filled face morphing swiftly into righteous rage.

"Why would you do that to a civilian? To a _child_?" His furious features melted, and he knelt by the boy, whispering softly, "It's okay, kid. Your uncle's fine, he's just going to sleep for a while. What was your name? Teddy?"

"Yeah," the child replied, refraining from making eye contact with these strangers that had apparently scared his godfather to sleep.

"That's what Granma Annie said about my parents. She said they went to sleep for a long time, and they didn' wake up. Is Uncle 'arry gonna wake up?"

This took the captain by surprise, and he paused for a moment before answering quickly, "Yes, of course. Teddy, we're going to go to a big tower, and get your uncle into bed. You'll get to look at lots of really cool things while Uncle Harry gets better, okay?" He extended his hand for the boy to take.

"Uncle 'arry said not to touch people I don' know," Teddy said, looking each Avenger in the eye, much the way Harry had done minutes before. "Does Uncle 'arry know you? Are you aliens? Uncle 'arry said you were cust'mers. Does that mean I can change 'round you?"

Steve chuckled slightly at the order of questions, replying, "Teddy, I've known your uncle for a while, we're friends. You can trust us, I promise, but I have a question for you: will you be my friend?"

Taking his hand, Teddy's hair straightened and lightened into a golden-blond, but his eyes retained that shade of vivid green. He now almost looked like a mini-Steve, which the original would be teased for later.

"I'll be your friend, alien!" the boy exclaimed, grinning up at the super-soldier.

The man smiled back. "Call me Steve."

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Consciousness returned in the form of a pounding head, and a sense of confusion.

 _What happened? Where am I? I'm pretty sure I didn't have anything to drink, not since… huh, I don't even remember._

Despite the speculations, the first thing that came out of his mouth was an unintelligible groan, that could have meant either that he was dying, or that he was asking for five more minutes. (It's nearly impossible to tell the difference.)

Cracking his eyes open a fraction, he hissed as the artificial light scorched his retinas. Vaguely, he could hear whispers of, "He's awake," and "Dim the lights, J."

"What in the name of Merlin's going on?" he half-asked, half-whispered. Opening his eyes fully, he realized that he was actually in the room alone.

It was circular, with one continuous wall of thick glass. There was nothing in the room except for a speaker, a security camera, and a bed on which he had woken up. Moving, he realized there were no restraints. Groggily, he sat up, searching instinctively for his glasses.

 _Back in the security room, they watched on the monitors as Harry came to in a room/cell designed to work like Loki/Hulk's prison on the Helicarrier. Harry, of course, didn't know that._

"Hello?" Harry called, the sound breaking the tense silence of the place. The past events were coming back to him, and, horrified, he whipped his head around in search of his godson.

Quickly becoming irritated at his lack of vision, he looked into the camera, stating, "You know, this would be a lot easier if I could have my glasses."

All former confusion and friendliness was gone; there was only annoyance bordering on protective fury etched on his features.

 _Without a sound, they all looked at each other, except Tony, who impatiently pushed a few buttons. A minute later, a panel opened in the cell, revealing the glasses, which had just been snatched from the R &D department. It had been through all of the screenings, and while the ends could make it seem like a weapon, they doubted Harry was suicidal._

Looking in relief to find his coveted glasses, he put them on, blinking and fending off a headache as his eyes adjusted.

"Right," he began, sitting down in the middle of the cell. "From what I can remember, I'm here under interrogation for something. What that something is, I'm not sure, so you can start by explaining why in Merlin's name I'm sitting in a glass cell, staring into a camera when I can't see you."

" _Okay," Tony said, but didn't make a move yet._

" _Tony," Steve demanded, "Let him see us." When he hesitated, the captain pressed, "That's an order."_

 _He pressed the button, and a live feed of the security room popped down into the cell. Harry's features softened slightly, as though their compliance was the first step._

"Okay," Harry stated, looking up into the half-guilty, half-composed faces above him. "That's a start. Now, what am I doing here?"

" _You were recorded under SHIELD's Persons of Interest List, and we were under orders to bring you in,"_ said Natasha coolly.

"Do you happen to know why, Ms. Romanoff, and if so, are you at liberty to tell me?"

" _No to both,"_ Clint answered, _"and we'll be the ones asking the questions."_

A tight smile made its way to Harry's lips, and he nodded, indicating that they could continue, and Tony did so with gusto.

" _Okay, so per your instructions, we haven't hurt the kid—"_

"Touched," Harry corrected, the old panic returning. "You haven't touched Teddy, have you?"

Steve shifted, eyes betraying him before his words did. _"I took his hand once, and by the way, why does he change appearance? Is he a mutant?"_ ***

This finally got a real reaction from the prisoner. His eyebrows raised and creased, and he stood, walking closer to the screen.

"He morphed in front of you?" he asked quickly, and after receiving several nods of confirmation, he demanded, "I need to talk to him."

Instantly, Steve said, _"Of course,"_ while Natasha replied, _"I'm afraid we can't—"_

"Let me talk to him, and I'll tell you anything you need to know."

While this was an opportunity, it was against interrogation procedure to bring in a person for bargaining, even though it was done in several of the more underground situations.

Natasha sighed, repeating her last memorized phrase. _"I'm afraid—"_

In a fit of overwhelming frustration, Harry balled his fists and screamed, "I NEED TO TALK TO MY GODSON!"

Silence fell over the security feed, before Harry saw Tony pick up the phone and say, "Bruce, can you bring Teddy to the security room, please?" This seemed to shock everybody else in the room, for Tony looked like the person who never said "please". Harry thought fondly of another person he knew who never said "please", before returning to the conversation.

 _Back in the security room, Steve wondered why Harry had Teddy call him "Uncle"._

Harry breathed an audible sigh of utter relief when Teddy's inquisitive face appeared on the screen.

"Uncle 'arry!" the boy grinned delightedly, pressing his hand to the edge of the screen and shocking his hair black.

"Teddy, what did I say about changing in front of people you don't know?"

Now, Teddy looked confused, which in turn bemused Harry himself.

"But, Mister Stevie said you were friends! He's my friend! You said I can change in front of Aunt 'Mione an' Grandma Annie an' Grandma Molly and Uncle Ron and— an'—"

"He's your friend, you said?" Harry interrupted as Teddy failed to remember the rest, looking pointedly at Steve and raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, he said you were friends, an' he knew you a long time, but he didn't answer my question 'bout if he's an alien. Are they aliens, Uncle 'arry?"

He shook his head, a genuine smile reaching his lips for the first time in hours. It almost hurt.

"No, cub, they're not aliens. They're—err, they're friends, I guess. I trust them to keep you safe."

"You went to sleep," the tot remarked. "I thought you went to sleep for a long time like Mum and Dad did, but Mr. Bruce got me a juice box an' a moo-vie, he said, and when I was done, you were all better. It was like magic!"

Harry looked at his godson fondly. "Yes, like magic."

" _Okay,_ Tony said after an awkward pause, _"that reunion was cute and all that, but we've still got questions. Lots of questions, actually, so can we wrap up this little family session?"_

Harry gave him a sharp look, and relented, sighing, "Very well. What do you want to know?"

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

An hour or so of questioning passed. Harry did the best he could without violating the Statute of Secrecy. He did, however, have some lies readily at hand, for these muggles were not the first to be curious.

It was easy to explain away his lack of records: he was British. As for his false identity, he had saved his school from a terrorist bomber in his final year there. After leaving, he'd decided he didn't like the attention, and spent a few years tracking down the terrorist's followers before setting off for the States.

Teddy was a bit harder, so he just went with the mutant excuse he was given, denying any claim that he was one himself.

" _So what's your real name?"_

"You know my real name. You've called me by my real name for the past hour."

" _No, your last name."_

"Potter, why?" he replied casually. The name wouldn't mean anything to them.

" _So we don't look like idiots when we file the report with no last name,"_ Clint snapped, half-exhausted and half-sardonic after an hour of verbal sparring.

" _All right, I think that's enough for one day,"_ Steve said gently. _"We'll get you a room—" "Steeeve!" "—that's not a cell, and call it a day. For now, you're under house arrest. Is that understood?"_

Harry nodded, keeping his hands raised as a hidden door in the glass slid open, and Natasha entered, stony-faced.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Thor, who had gone to watch over Teddy when the serious interrogation started, greeted the team as they traipsed into the common living space.

"My friends!" he boomed. "How fared the interrogation?"

"He's lying," Natasha replied immediately.

"He's not," retorted Clint, looking at her thoughtfully. "At least, not fully. I think it's a half-truth, but I can't spot the lies."

"The name's legitimate though," said Nat, returning the look with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, so you have procured a name from our young friend," Thor thundered, a genial grin stuck on his face like it was taped there.

"Yeah, the kid's Harry Potter," Clint mentioned. "Pretty common name for an alleged threat."

Thor, however, had paled considerably hearing those words, as Loki appeared in the doorway to seek peace only to find the space crawling with heroes.

"What did you say?" they asked, almost in unison, though Thor seemed horrified and Loki only confused, as though he hadn't heard correctly.

"You are keeping the valiant Harry, Son of James in a _cell_?" Thor whispered hoarsely, aghast. Loki mirrored his expression.

"Harry Potter?" he asked, in a low voice of half-disbelief and half-terror, as though the name was taboo. "Imprisoned?" He began to stride his way over to his brother, not noticing the tiny Teddy near him.

For one second, the child's hair brushed Loki's bare skin where his shirt rode up ever-so-slightly around his waist, but that one second was all it took. The contact, the warmth alerted Loki to the presence of the little boy, who shivered slightly as the temperature of the room plunged.

One second was all it took for the boy's pale skin to melt into blue, for the short hair to lengthen and straighten, and for green eyes to flash scarlet, until Loki was frozen, staring petrified at a mirror image of himself.

 **~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~A/N~**

 **OVER 3K WORDS! *SQUEE***

 *** "Them" is being used because even though it's not grammatically correct, it is a gender-neutral word, and could also be used to describe a hive-mind, etc. Acceptance is key, folks!**

 **** This was a mistake I made last time. Teddy is four, not three. Sorry!**

 ***** Mutants are known in this universe, but not really notable, so no X-Men characters. Sorry, X-Men fans!**


	5. In Which Clarifications Are Made

**Chapter Four: In Which Clarifications Are Made**

 **(For Loki's sake, read the A/N at the bottom, if this is the current chapter.)**

 **(Seriously. It's important.)**

 **(I'm waiting.)**

 **(*sigh* Fine.)**

Loki kneeled, raised his hand, and touched it to the child's own, equally fascinated and horrified.

Slowly, his own skin darkened and eyes changed to match Teddy's own, as the glamour he wore like his own skin melted away. He seemed to have forgotten the others were there, but they themselves hadn't, and were staring in shock at these two creatures before them.

" _He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?"_

The thing was, Odin hadn't, so poor Thor had no idea that his own brother was anything but Asgardian, just that he was adopted. Now, he didn't know what to feel: disgust or guilt or pity or… he felt everything and nothing.

Loki suddenly realized how many pairs of eyes were fixed on him, and straightening, met their gazes with his own piercing one, backing away. Before anybody could react, he vanished, and blissful warmth seeped back into the room. Teddy reverted to his blue locks and green orbs, seemingly unaware of what he'd done.

"Is _he_ an alien, Mister Stevie?"

The captain shook his head. "I don't know, Teddy. I don't know."

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

He ran through the halls, Jotun form slowly being concealed by the Asgardian, and didn't stop. Up and down stairs, through rooms, up walls when he got fast enough…

Finally slowing, Loki stopped in front of a new set of doors, gasping for air.

He decided this room was no worse than any other, and walked in blindly, before promptly bumping into another person. Stumbling back, he realized it was the newly released wizard the brothers had heard tall tales about.

"Harry Potter, Master of Death," he murmured, bowing his head in respect. "I apologize for not recognizing you earlier."

"Even moving across a bloody ocean doesn't do the trick," Harry muttered, ducking his head modestly. "Please, don't call me by my title. I left to get away from all of the attention and the kidnapping didn't help any."

"Very well," Loki conceded, and the faintest ghost of a smile reached his lips as he recalled the times in his own life where all he wanted was a break from the stares (and glares) of others. "I apologize for the intrusion. You wouldn't happen to know where we are, would you?"

Harry smiled. "I should ask _you_ that, shouldn't I?"

"I must admit, I have spent the majority of my time here in the privacy of my chambers."

"Well, the most I know is that we're on the 86th floor. That's the best I can do."

"You have my thanks, Mister Potter," Loki said lightly, eyes softening slightly.

Harry grinned, and replied, "Just Harry is fine, Loki, you make me feel like I'm back in school."

"Well then, you have my thanks, Harry," the trickster replied contentedly, and turned to go.

He only got a few paces down the hall when the youth's voice cried out, "Wait!"

It was only for his respect of Harry that he did so. "Yes?" he queried, revolving slowly to face the young man once more.

"If—if you're not busy, would you please help me find my godson? Technically, I can move freely around the Tower if somebody goes with me."

This made Loki's eyes glaze over slightly, as he remarked, "Funny, those were my constraints when I was first admitted here." He refocused his gaze, regaining his composure, almost forgetting the events leading him to this room. "Very well, I shall accompany you, Harry," he sighed in mock-fatigue, as though the very thought physically tired him.

Harry saw right through the mask, but didn't let on, and instead thanked the taller man before following him through the labyrinth of hallways.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

"So, are you going to tell us what on Earth just went down there?"

"It seems," Thor began faintly, like he was just praying this was all a dream, "that my brother is not Asgardian, as I thought."

"What is he?" Steve probed gently, inching closer to the oblivious Teddy unconsciously.

"No wonder he wasn't able to be crowned…" Thor muttered to himself dazedly. "Loki is the enemy of the entire realm of Asgard. My brother is a Jotun."

Silence stretched across the room like taffy, entwining each individual.

"Ohhhh…" Clint drew out the sound, promptly ruining the moment of astonishment. "I get it. So _that's_ why his story seemed so far-fetched."

Everybody spared a moment to give him a look, watching as he wilted under the disapproval of five people.

"How did the kid know, though?" Tony asked after a beat, redirecting his attention to the child, who was now happily gnawing on a graham cracker.

"That's why I asked you not to touch him," a voice called, irritated, from the elevator doors, which slid open to reveal their would-be prisoner, followed by Loki, who wouldn't meet anybody's eyes, especially his not-brother's.

"Uncle 'arry!" Teddy grinned, running up to his godfather, who scooped him up, mirroring the child's expression.

"Hey, cub. Miss me?" he asked, before letting his happiness fall away, and facing the others. "Teddy's, err— _abilities_ are still in development, which means that before he can learn how to use them, they manifest themselves in the appearances of others.

"At his age, he can't really control himself, which means restraining himself from changing is difficult, and nearly impossible when in physical contact with others."

As if on queue, Harry was now holding his miniature double, sans glasses.

"He takes on the person's real appearance, rather than their current one," he said, bouncing his godson up and down, making the child giggle out, "'m right here, Uncle 'arry!"

"I don't really know why. His grandmother would, but she's not here this time, is she, cub?" He directed the last few words towards the child, who looked thoughtful.

"Yeah," Teddy responded. "Granma Annie said she was too tired, and I was a big boy, so I could go visit myself!" He fell silent for a moment, thinking. "She's been real tired lately. She's always in bed. Is she going to sleep for a long time too?"

 _Yes. She's sick. She's old. I gave you over to her and she can't handle it._

"No, cub, you've just been putting her through her paces. She's too busy keeping after you!"

 _Lies. Is it? Is it a lie? Should I tell him?_

"Well that's sweet and all, but how come you didn't tell us you were a Smurf, Reindeer Games?" Tony asked abruptly, feeling uneasy the morbid turn the conversation had taken. Feelings weren't his thing.

Loki looked up from where he'd been observing the group inconspicuously.

"Being a Jotun is not something one boasts about, or even talks about outside a secure, private area. Frost giants are the _monsters_ —" he explained, looking back down at his hands, which stained blue, ice crystallizing at the fingertips, "—children are warned of at night. They are the beasts we dreamed of slaying not so long ago, the brutes that are still ridiculed and slaughtered in droves."

His bitter voice grew angrier the more he said, until he looked practically dangerous.

"Yeesh," Tony remarked, ignoring the disapproving (and warning) looks at his insensitivity. "And I thought _my_ daddy issues were bad."

He clapped his hands together. "Well, story time was fun, but I want pizza. Do you want pizza? I want pizza. Let's get pi—" Tony was promptly silenced as Harry, with all of his might, slapped him across the face.

It was only then that the team realized that Loki had disappeared once more, and the irate wizard stomped off after his almost-friend, Teddy in tow.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

It was only sheer luck that Tony saw the second hand in time to avoid another punishment.

"Hey!" he cried indignantly, raising one hand to his slap-reddened face and the other to his chest. "It was a joke, calm down—"

Thor advanced on him, a looming tower of bulky intimidation.

"'Just a joke'? He was _just_ beginning to open up, and then you and your team—" he spat, saying "your team" as though he'd left already, "—go imprison the Master of Death for Norn's sakes, and belittle him so he feels trapped and angrier than before! Fix this, son of Stark, or you will know Hel's wrath."

Panicked, the threatened man glanced around the room, meeting the same looks of disappointment, and relented.

"Fine, fine," he said resignedly, throwing both hands in the air as a sign of defeat, "I'll go apologize to Rudolph the Blue-Skinned Reindeer—" "TONY!" "—sorry, and get us dinner and ice cream for team bonding time, okay?"

"You are also granting Loki a wish," Steve added, hiding a smile as Tony groaned dramatically, sliding to the floor.

 _When Tony Stark did something to offend people (which happened about three hundred times a day), he would have to grant them a wish. As long as it was humanly possible to make/get/do, Tony would make/get/do it for them, no matter how steep the price._

 _Once, Clint had decided that he wanted the world's smallest alpaca, and so, four days later, a very haggard Tony had presented him with the world's smallest alpaca, after he had flown on twenty-seven different flights, ended up losing his wallet in Peru, somehow found himself in China, and spent one night in a dingy motel in Bolivia._

 _Another time, for kicks, Natasha had told Tony that she wanted Marilyn Monroe's "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" dress, which was the most expensive dress ever auctioned._

" _But that's—" the man had shrieked. Natasha had only smiled, and, reminding the poor man of the rule, had walked away, confident in the knowledge that her wish was well spent._

 _Needless to say, Tony loathed most people's wishes, but it was in his nature to joke, snark, and be insensitive to the general welfare of everybody around him. This, of course, meant he was constantly running around, granting wishes, something that greatly amused everybody else. Soon, people were calling him, "Genie"._

"Fine," he moaned, straightening up, and trudging his way to the elevator. "For you, Cap. I'll go get the Sulk-osaurus Rex his wish. Just don't be surprised when you find me in multiple pieces with Post-Loki Limb Disorder."

 _For me?_ "Thank you, Tony. You'll feel better afterwards," Steve smiled, ignoring how a little "for you" made him feel.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

After using JARVIS to track the two black-haired men down, he entered the roof where he found a mini-winter wonderland. Snow coated the floor, and clouds had gathered overhead, showering tender flakes down on the world.

Teddy was happily engaging in a snowball fight against his godfather. Loki sitting off to the side, and occasionally pelting some snow at Harry when the other wasn't looking. The trio looked much happier than before, which Tony hoped was an improvement.

He cleared his throat to announce himself, and the last ball of snow was thrown as they fell silent, and he approached warily.

"All right, um—" He fumbled over his words, finally letting them tumble out of his mouth.

"I don't usually apologize, so don't expect it to be good or anything," he began, "but I am sorry, really. I didn't have the best childhood either, or the best relationship with my own father. I guess shutting those feelings out and making fun of others made me feel better for a while, but it wasn't fair to place it on you. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

Loki sat, still as a stone, keeping a poker face up, but inwardly, he was shocked at the man's behavior. His suspicions were confirmed when Tony made it a point to say, "Steve put me up to this."

Now, Tony looked wary, resigned, and terrified. "You also are granted a wish."

He stood there, panic increasing as the god of mischief let a slow grin stretch across his features.

"Very well," he said, keeping the sadistic smile on his face, "I accept your apology. As for the wish, well, I think I will save it for the appropriate _opportunity_."

Tony so wished that the snow layer was thick enough that he could dig a hole, and die there. As it was, it was getting colder by the second, and he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, so with a parting, "Dinner and ice-cream at 7," he turned to leave.

Tony learned then that he should never turn his back to an opponent, formerly or otherwise, and received a heaping of snow dumped on his head, face, and neck.

He left, drenched in icy powder, to the sound of raucous laughter.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Dragging himself into the team living space, he shot a glare at the captain who was trying (and failing) to hold back a chuckle, and said resentfully, "If this is 'feeling better' to you, I'm terrified for what 'worse' is."

 _Master of Death?_

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

7:00 finally rolled around, after an agonizingly short period of time in the lab, and Tony was resigning himself to his fate.

Every time he rounded a corner, he expected to see Loki there, ready to cash in his wish. It didn't help that the guy was silent on his feet, making Tony squeal— "Gahh!" —when he had appeared suddenly in the lab, just behind him while he'd been blasting AC/DC and making updates to Clint's arrows.

Unfortunately, it was now time to abandon his robots, and re-enter into the living world, something he both detested and enjoyed, depending on the company.

Sighing melodramatically, he emerged from the lab, and met everybody in the lobby of Stark Tower.

Before they left, Harry asked if he could drop Teddy off to be picked up by his grandmother.

"Sure," Steve said, before mentioning the catch. "You have to bring one of us, though."

"You still don't trust me?" the young man complained, deciding to memory-wipe whoever came with him so he could simply apparate.

"You and Reindeer Games should form a club of people we don't trust," Tony commented, brightening suddenly. "Hey, that's perfect. Get Loki to teleport Harry back."

"I am not some common mule that bows to commands," the trickster grumbled, but placed a light hand on the younger man's shoulder, and vanished in a burst of green light.

The billionaire watched as the light dissipated, declaring, "I will find out how he poofs around like a freaking fairy."

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

A flash of emerald later, Harry stumbled as he felt his feet hit the ground. Clutching Teddy tightly to his chest, he thanked the god, who looked maddeningly untouched, and entered his old shop.

The candles were still lit, for that's the way he'd left them, and the place looked as cozy as ever. It was funny how only one day away from his home made him feel so relieved when he returned.

"Home sweet home," he whispered to his godson, who was gently falling asleep in his arms. Trekking upstairs, he cast a small, _"Incendio!"_

Tossing in some Floo powder, he waved as Teddy toddled into the fireplace, squeaking, "Bye, Uncle 'arry! Granma Annie's house!" In a flicker of jade flames, the boy was gone.

Harry briefly considered simply staying there, and having Loki make up some excuse. He could have left at any time, but the whole reason he'd moved here was because of anonymity, and look where that had got him.

Besides, it wasn't fair to Loki, who, according to the others, didn't have the sunniest personality, but still made efforts to respect him.

" _What do you and Thor know about me?" Harry asked, watching as the snow began to fall._

" _Really, Thor knows next to nothing, except for the fact that you are a valiant hero, and should be treated as such," the taller man answered, smirking slightly when Harry ducked his head in modesty._

" _In Asgard, Midgard is perceived to be a very weak, poor place filled with such people. When I learned of the wizards, though, I was very intrigued. They had been shunned for their magic in much the same way that I had._

" _When Voldemort came to power, not only was my father not worried, but he forbade Thor and I from visiting Midgard while the war took place. I still found ways to travel there, to help, if only slightly._

" _It was just a week or so after your parents died when I was found out. There was no big punishment, just being forbidden to visit Midgard for another decade or so, nothing special."_

 _He began to trace with his finger in the white powder, drawing runes and creating symbols absentmindedly._

" _Asgard, for all of their bias, still respected the wizards, so when you defeated Voldemort, you were celebrated as a hero, as a man who had gone to death with honor, and had come back unscathed._

" _I regarded you even more highly than before for the fact. You, despite prejudices and a mad man killing every wizard who was different, defeated him, and lived to bear the burden of glorious attention."_

 _Harry had turned slightly red throughout the speech, smiling slightly._

" _Thank you, for accompanying me," he said, before a ball of frosty wetness hit his face. Wiping it off slowly, he stood up, and gathered his own snow to pelt at his godson._

He decided it was best to play along. It was easier.

Gathering his things and placing them in a small bag (which Hermione had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on), he walked downstairs, grabbing the coffee machine, just in case, and left the building.

As he and Loki disappeared, so did The Patronus, never to be seen again.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

After reappearing on a side street, Loki and Harry made their way into the restaurant just next to it.

"Shawarma," Harry read, the word tasting foreign in his mouth. "Sounds Middle-Eastern."

"It's Arabic," Tony called from where he lounged, in a faux know-it-all voice.

"It is also most delicious," Thor boomed. He had already finished his first, and was digging into a second with delightful vigor.

"Come, brother, and young Harry, son of James. Let us feast!"

Chuckling slightly at Thor's antics, Harry did sit down, alongside Steve and Bruce, and was handed some shawarma.

Saying it was "most delicious" was a gross understatement. Harry practically hummed in happiness, burying his head once more into the mountain of meat, bread, and vegetables.

"Merlin," he gasped, coming up for air, "there are no words for this. How did you find this place?"

"Actually," Tony remarked, "I found it during Rock of Ages' invasion, so, if there was no invasion, there would be no heaven on a plate for us to enjoy."

After murmured agreements and overenthusiastic descriptions of their food, Steve gently reminded Tony of the second part of the team-bonding time: ice cream.

"I used to know a place," Harry recalled fondly. "Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. My best friends got engaged there. It only re-opened a few months ago, but going there as a child was magical." He could almost taste the chocolate-raspberry treat he had received from Hagrid on his first visit to Diagon Alley.

Small conversations continued until the entire team was craving ice cream, so they left to find an ice cream parlor.

Just down the road, they found one. *

"David's Ice Cream," Natasha read. "Sounds straightforward."

She was usually a good judge, and everybody followed without questioning into the tiny parlor.

Tony craved chocolate, and Steve, vanilla, and so were surprised when they received each other's.

Thor ordered strawberry once again, and Loki took the chocolate orange flavor.

Clint and Natasha both wanted mint-chip, and so bought one big one to share.

Bruce, appalling Tony, bought a small, simple lemon sorbet.

Finally, Harry snagged a salty caramel cone, and together, they all munched.

After leaving a hundred-dollar bill on the table, Tony led the rest outside to walk to the park. It was dark, and New York was constantly busy, so it was difficult to navigate.

They finally reached the park, when Tony nonchalantly asked, "So, what does Master of Death mean?"

Harry felt his heart stop. He whirled around to cry, "WHAT?!" but found his way blocked by another figure.

The pair tumbled to the concrete sidewalk.

"Oh, Merlin, I am so sorry," the stranger said, holding out his hand to help Harry to his feet.

Harry looked up at the pale man, feeling as though he knew him from somewhere. The blond was busy checking him over for injuries.

"Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need—" Green eyes met ash, and years of history rushed back to the forefront of Harry's mind.

" _Draco_?"

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

 **Dun dun dunnn!**

 **So, due to tons of things happening at once, I won't be able to update as much as I would like, and I will also be spending a week away from my usual work space. *cries* It'll be fine by February, hopefully.**

 **Thanks a ton!**

 **Your humble author,**

 **BoukieToo**


	6. In Which a Dedication Is Made

**Chapter Five: In Which a Dedication Is Made**

The man froze, staring intently at him.

"Potter?" he whispered, the name tasting familiar on his tongue.

Harry didn't notice, but if he had been thinking harder, he would have recalled a scene very similar to this.

* **beginning actual quote** _ *****_ _"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"  
_

 _"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of were thickset and looked like bodyguards.  
_

 _"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."  
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him._

 _"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."_

 _He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."_ * **ending actual quote***

 _Draco extended his hand, as though to pull Harry from his newly made friend, and help him. Harry didn't like pity. He didn't need anybody's help._

" _I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."_

 _The hand dropped, unshaken._

Now, the pale fingers remained outstretched, and Harry took them gladly. As Draco pulled him up, the digits gripped his wrist and brushed an old scar.

 _I must not tell lies._

He'd lied to himself when he'd taken Ginny. He'd told himself that he truly loved her, allowed himself to make a life with her, and he'd forgotten what who he'd left behind. Or did he?

For was his old infatuation not here now, still clutching his wrist like a lifeline?

Was his—dare he say it—friend not here to help him up?

 _Help?_ Help. Harry decided he could use a little help.

"Um, sorry to break up the staring contest, but who is this?"

Starting, the pair looked from where they were gawking at each other.

"Someone I haven't seen in a long time," Harry murmured, before turning back to the blond man. "Draco, it's—it's nice to see a familiar face."

"Yeah," he replied. "Didn't expect to find you here, Potter. Did the attention become too much?"

Harry could tell Draco was regaining his wits.

"You could say that. I've made a new name for myself, literally."

"Let me guess: your mother's maiden name with your father's first."

Harry pouted reproachfully. "It's America, they wouldn't notice. James Evans, nice to meet you," he said, shaking the hand that was still gripping his wrist.

Realizing this, Draco flushed slightly and let it drop. Harry felt the warmth that was left behind slowly fade, feeling somewhat reluctant to let it.

"So," Draco began awkwardly, turning towards the others, who were standing stock-still, "who are these?" He lowered his voice. "Muggles?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, voice muted, "I gave them their equivalent of the basic story. Apparently, I'm wanted by the government for being interesting."

"Okay, you still didn't answer the question," Tony interjected impatiently. "Who. Is. This?"

The blond wizard stepped forward easily, and in an unconsciously protective stance, smiled coldly.

"Draco Malfoy, it's a pleasure," he introduced icily. Steve supposed they deserved it, for they had made a rather horrible first impression.

"Steve Rogers," he said, stepping forwards, and trying to set an example by extending a hand to shake. When it wasn't accepted, he returned to his place, adding, "And the pleasure is all ours."

One by one, the Avengers (and Loki) were introduced, and all were met with the same frosty stare. When the Jotun returned it, the two had a staring contest, before Loki relented with a, "He stays." That, it seemed, was that.

"Mr. Malfoy, as Mr. Potter is wanted by SHIELD, and you are his associate, you will have to come with us," Natasha droned half-heartedly, not really seeing the point anymore. It seemed that if he really wanted to, Harry could just leave, and she assumed the same of Draco.

The young man shot her a look that stated plainly, _Do you honestly think that will work?_

"Are they serious?" he asked, looking at Harry incredulously.

"Oh yes," the dark-haired wizard assured in mock-awe. "If you refuse, they'll kidnap you, stuff you in a cell, and interrogate you for hours, using your godson as a bargaining chip."

Malfoy laughed, a frigid, plastic sound that felt as though it was calculated and constructed to make a point rather than out of genuine pleasure. Harry didn't like the sound, and so switched topics.

"It really is wonderful to see you. It's been—it's been a long time."

Draco shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Err—"

Harry didn't know what came over him, but suddenly he was engulfing his former mortal enemy in a crushing hug.

 **I'M SORRY BUT I JUST HEARD ALAN RICKMAN'S DEAD AND LIFE IS OVER SO THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO THE WONDERFUL MAN—**

 **TURN TO PAGE 394. *SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY***

 ***clears throat* Anyways… back to the story.**

In any case, Draco froze stock-still as Harry wrapped his arms around him. There really was nothing he could do but the same, if much more lightly.

"Err—right. So, will you come with us, then? We can catch up," Harry suggested, refusing to meet Malfoy's gaze after his rather Gryffindor act.

Draco nodded numbly, allowing the shorter man to pull him along by the newly gripped wrist, the others following silently behind.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Finishing off their ice cream, the group settled themselves in various chairs around the Patronus.

"So this is where you'd settled down." Draco regarded the place with impressed interest. "I always imagined you to be with the law enforcement, or an actor, never a café owner. Never even thought you could cook."

"Why? Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Know how to cook?"

"Well, of course," Malfoy answered, as though it were obvious. "All Malfoys had the upbringing to know of such things, but never actually did any of it." He ended his little speech sheepishly. "So, I know how to make a decent omelet, but if you asked me to actually make one, I'd just direct you to the kitchens of Malfoy Manor."

"Fellow spoiled brat?" Tony asked, breaking the silence that the Avengers had kept for the last fifteen minutes.

For the first time since they'd been introduced, Draco glanced their way.

"Yes, if that is what you want to call it," he conceded frostily. "I'm still not entirely sure what I'm doing here."

When nobody answered, Harry saved the conversation by bringing up a new topic. "Teddy's been absolutely _dying_ to see you. He won't stop asking his Granma Annie about Uncle Draco."

Draco's face warmed, before morphing into one of concern.

"How is Andromeda? She hasn't been visiting lately."

"Well, she fell down the stairs about a month or so ago, and I had to take her to St. Mungo's, but they said she'd been there quite often lately, and maybe I should find her a caretaker.

"That's the problem, Draco. She's got custody of Teddy now, because I can't take care of him here, and I'm starting to think that I burdened her with too much to handle."

"Let me take him," Malfoy said immediately.

Harry looked shocked. "You? No, I couldn't do that to you—"

"I want to," the other cut in reassuringly. "I would have found a way to take him off Andromeda's hands eventually. I can take care of him. In fact, tell Andromeda she can move into my place if she likes, so she can be near you and Teddy."

Harry's face relaxed, melting into a grin. "Thanks, Draco, really."

"My pleasure." He looked around, standing.

"You really should get a bigger place, Potter," he remarked, heading for the door.

When nobody followed, he turned to face them, irritated. "Well, aren't you going to, what was it, 'take me to your leader'?"

"Indeed," Thor agreed after a beat, moving to stand by the smaller blond. "It is getting late, and it has been a very eventful day. Let us retire to the Tower."

"All right, Point Break," Tony said, grunting slightly as he stood as well. "I didn't get my pizza yet."

"You just had dinner," scolded Natasha, who'd gone through this argument several times since she moved in.

Tony shrugged sheepishly.

"I need energy to survive, my dearest Natasha," he explained. "The more energy I consume, preferably in the form of coffee, pizza, or ice cream, the longer I can function without the nuisance you call sleep."

Realizing she should have given up the first time they'd discussed this, Natasha followed him out, the rest trailing behind.

None of them but Draco saw the café burst into silent flames, burning to the ground in seconds.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

The next morning, there was a small headline towards the back of the major newspapers:

 _SMALL CAFÉ BURNS DOWN, NO BODY FOUND_

Nobody was surprised when the police didn't investigate; those who were initially intrigued felt suddenly that they were supposed to be doing something else, and returned to other activities.

However, several (much larger) headlines began to appear on the front pages:

 _NEW AVENGERS, OR INTERNATIONAL TERRORISTS?_

 _Yesterday night, Earth's mightiest heroes were spotted at the Shawarma and David's Ice Cream establishments, before heading to The Patronus café (see picture below). Eyewitness reports told us that another was accompanying them._

" _There was another guy," said an employee of David's Ice Cream who wished to remain anonymous. "He was short and skinny, with black hair and glasses. Didn't catch his name. Polite man, seemed to mean it when he smiled at me."_

 _Another man seemed to have joined them somewhere between exiting the ice cream parlor and entering the café. Another eyewitness, Marissa Banks, a 20-year-old college student, gave a description that matched the first report, and then continued to describe the second man._

" _He was blond," she revealed. "Draco, I think he was called by the other man, and taller than him. They had English or Scottish accents, and they seemed to know each other intimately."_

 _Ms. Banks managed to catch a picture of the two embracing. Are these mysterious strangers a couple? Are they family?_

 _The café was set aflame shortly after the group's departure, leaving no remains but ash. Were these strangers involved? Why did "Draco" leave the place to burn? Does this have something to do with the war criminal Loki, who was also present, and has been living peacefully on this planet for several months?_

 _The Avengers themselves haven't released any information, but a Stark Industries press conference is scheduled to be held in two days. Will Tony Stark have answers?_

 _For now, all New York can do is speculate._

Accompanying this particular article were several pictures. The first two depicted the Avengers and another figure entering Shawarma and David's Ice Cream. The third showed a photo of two men embracing, the heroes gawking in the background. The fourth displayed the group entering The Patronus, followed by a fifth of them leaving, smoke rising from the café, and the character dubbed "Draco" looking back at it.

Obviously, neither Draco nor Harry was particularly content that morning.

"What," Harry growled as he stormed into the kitchen, an irritated Draco following, "Is. _This?_ " He slammed a paper with a headline entitled, _"MAYBE-GAY COUPLE SEEN WITH AVENGERS, SETS LOCAL SHOP ABLAZE_ " on the table for all to see.

"I would very much like to know myself," Draco added, seeming to be much less irate than his shorter counterpart.

"Those," Tony explained with gusto, "are the hideous vultures that like to masquerade as humans. We call them the media or the press. I have had much experience with those ghastly creatures, and can vouch for their total ignorance of the obvious, as well as complete faith in the untrue."

Harry glowered at the newspaper, sitting down so as to keep himself in check.

"It's fifth year all over again," he muttered to Malfoy, who sat beside him, reading the article intently.

"At least they didn't get your name," Bruce attempted to console.

Harry sighed, looking up at him. "Yes, but the Avengers are Earth's mightiest heroes. This will go out _everywhere_ ; it probably has already, regardless of how small. They have _pictures,_ Dr. Banner. Pictures!"

"You think—" Draco began, but then caught himself, abruptly pulling Harry out of the room.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Tony said, "JARVIS, bring up the security footage of wherever they are."

Steve cried, "Tony!" indignantly, but he shot back, "In case you haven't noticed, Capsicle, these people are _not_ in the Avengers. They are, however, wanted by the most secretive branch of government in the world. So, I think it's important to get answers from them, don't you?"

Relenting, he stepped away, allowing Tony to pull up a screen. It flickered, before displaying Harry's room.

"— _out of here."_

" _No, they'd still find me." Harry fell back onto the bed. "Merlin," he sighed, a drawn-out sound filled with weary misery. "I thought I'd done it. Then, of course, instead of visiting France or Italy, I decided to get away from Europe altogether, like it made a difference."_

" _I'd have to agree with you there," Malfoy replied, sitting by Harry's feet. "How long did you think you would have? The Ministry's getting more cunning by the second—not that a little Slytherin quality's a bad thing…"_

" _I just wish it never happened, you know?" Harry spoke to the ceiling, rather than to Draco. "Dumbledore, Sirius, Mum and Dad, Tom… none of it. For better or worse. Is that selfish?"_

" _I'm not sure," Malfoy responded. "You'd save countless people, including those you loved, but if there was no Dumbledore, you'd still have Grindlewald, or somebody equally as terrible."_

"What's with all of the weird names?" Tony asked, before being shh'd.

" _Yeah," Harry agreed. "I guess just sometimes I wish it wasn't always me."_

" _Well, I was master of the Elder Wand for a while, and Neville could have been the Chosen One," Malfoy reasoned._

"'Elder Wand'? 'Chosen One'?" Bruce asked, voicing the collective question(s).

Thor opened his mouth to say, "Indeed," but Loki quickly silenced him with a look. Thor returned a questioning one, wherein Loki whispered harshly, "Later."

 _The pair stayed silent for a while, before Malfoy began to relax, moving to a spot beside the shorter man._

" _Who do you like best of all of them?" he asked, turning his head to observe Harry._

" _Loki, probably," he answered almost immediately._

The others turned to stare at the man in question, who arched a brow.

"How on Earth did the Lokster befriend him?" Tony whispered to Clint.

"Dunno," he replied, facing the screen.

 _Draco smiled, "Figures. He looks like you, or maybe James."_

 _Harry returned the smile. "Actually, he reminds me of you."_

This caused a second brow to join the first on Loki's head.

" _Why?" Malfoy asked, not exactly bothered, but surprised._

 _Harry waved his hand vaguely. "Mannerisms," he answered, looking at the person he considered a friend. "You?"_

The team waited with baited breath.

" _They're all the same," Draco said haughtily. "They're muggles, Potter. Would-be heroes. They don't know the half of what they're dealing with."_

" _You sound like Ron," Harry laughed._

" _Weasley?" Malfoy asked, looking aghast. "Since when am I like him?"_

" _Still don't get along, do you?" the brunette chuckled, stretching as he stood up._

" _They're engaged, you know."_

" _About time. When's the wedding?"_

" _Not sure. Why?"_

" _Wanted to spring a Chocolate Frog on the lovely bride while she walked down the aisle." *_

" _Now you sound like George."_

" _Oh, the horror! I'm becoming a Weasley!"_

 _The two began to laugh harder, Harry sitting back down on the bed, and colliding with Malfoy._

 _The blond was knocked onto his back, sprawled there until Harry helped him up._

" _Thanks," the dark-haired youth whispered. "You made me forget, at least for a little bit."_

" _The Ministry will know better than to stick their noses into America's business," Malfoy reassured, sounding like he was convincing himself._

 _Harry moved closer, pulling up the other's sleeve to reveal a mark of some sort. A snake twisted from the maw of a devilish skull, into a figure eight before settling just below the jaw to leer._

"Cool tattoo," Clint commented. "Good artist, too. Might want to ask him about it."

 _Malfoy recoiled, shuddering. "After all this time, I still can't get rid of it."_

"Of course you can't, genius. It's a tattoo," Tony remarked.

" _It's in the past," Harry consoled. "They wouldn't bring you in for that. I wouldn't let them, nobody would."_

 _Malfoy chuckled darkly. "You'd be surprised, Potter, at what people are capable of doing to each other when they're scared enough," were his parting words as he left the bedroom, leaving the other looking lost, and mournful._

 _After a beat, he looked down at his own hand, tracing the scar there._

" _I must not tell lies," he read aloud dejectedly, staring at it intently, before exiting as well._

"That's carved into his skin?" Bruce and Steve exclaimed, aghast.

"What did Malfoy mean, 'You'd be surprised at what people are capable of'?" Clint asked to nobody in particular.

"I don't think it's a tattoo," Natasha professed, standing and beginning to leave.

"And where are you going?" asked Tony incredulously. "You can't just drop a bombshell like that on us and leave!"

"First off, I can," the woman replied coolly, "and secondly, I have a phone call to make. Harry Potter needs to be brought in, truly."

Before anybody could stop her, she was gone, Clint quickly following.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, full of movie-watching and engaging conversations.

"Hey Papa Smurf, get me some popcorn while you're up."

 _CLANG!_

"Joke's on you, I've still got popcorn—oh, come on!"

*crunch _*_ "Brother, this popped corn is most delicious! Many thanks!"

"Yes, well, don't expect any more."

"You gave my popcorn to Thor?!"

"It wasn't yours in the first place, but throwing the bowl at your head was rather entertaining."

"You tell him, Loki!"

"Stay out of it, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"Really? How old are you?"

"Twenty-one, but I'll be twenty-two in July."

"I rest my case."

"Hey!"

"Leave it, Potter. You'll never win."

"See? Even the German agrees with me."

"German?"

"Classic blond hair, blue eyes, World War Two… never mind."

Towards the end of the day, things were beginning to wind down. Draco, Harry, and the brothers were lounging on the sofa, Steve was drawing who-knows-what in a comfy armchair beside them, and Bruce had fallen asleep in another chair, blanket-wrapped and book in lap.

"Hey, Harry, did you bring your stuff in yet? You'll probably be staying here for a while."

"Yeah, and Draco's stuff, too. Can he get a room?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Yes, I'd rather not sleep in his," Malfoy agreed, making a face as he did.

Tony had gone down to his lab, and would probably be unreachable, so Steve went ahead and said, "Of course. Is the room next to Harry's all right?"

Draco stood. "Perfect. Thank you, Mr. Rogers."

"Steve is fine," he grinned, taking a liking to the men they were asked to bring in.

 _They can't have done anything wrong,_ the captain reasoned. _They're just… really skilled or something. They're not dangerous; they can't be._

At least, he desperately hoped they weren't.

Everybody began to file out, retiring to bedrooms, balconies, and bars. The captain sighed, alone in the room, and left, sketchbook open to a drawing of the two new guests unconsciously leaning on each other while watching Lion King.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

 **Yaaaay I did a thing!**

 *** I try to feature a Chocolate Frog in all of my Harry Potter stories. I do actually have a mini-fic thing I can post of what happened to the Chocolate Frog in the first movie. Should I? Hmm…**

 **Not as long as usual, but the schedule is packed. I'm leaving at the end of the week for about five days, but luckily, there will be tons of time to write during the traveling in-between!**

 **Your humble author,**

 **BoukieToo**


	7. In Which an Escape Is Made (-ish)

**Chapter Six: In Which an Escape Is Made (-ish)**

With the next morning's sunrise came the Fury.

Storming in, flanked by Agents Hill and Coulson (who was able to be revived after the medical team was sent in, but was comatose for months before waking), the director of SHIELD looked irate. Two strangers followed, keeping to the back.

"Don't move, any of you," he growled, hand in pocket, just itching to unleash his gun. Steve and Thor froze, in the midst of wolfing down an enormous breakfast (courtesy of Dr. Banner), gawking at him.

"Can we help you?" Steve asked levelly, although he looked a little shaken

"Malfoy, Potter, we need them. Our sources say they're here, so don't bother lying—"

"Sir!" Natasha and Clint burst in, drawing all gazes onto them

"The pair isn't here, sir," Clint declared, utterly straight-faced. "We were given false information—"

"Silence, Barton. Fibbing now isn't doing you any favors. You're dismissed."

"But sir—"

"Enough, Agent Romanoff. Don't make me have Coulson escort you out."

She persisted. "With all due respect, sir, they're not here."

"Who's not here?" Harry asked, walking in to the room with Draco to find a gun pointed at him, and two hands reaching for what he recognized to be wands.

"Hello," he murmured calmly, slowly raising his hands and continuing slowly into the room. "Would you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Harry Potter," the first stranger stated, hand gripping his wand handle. "You are Harry Potter, correct? And you, Draco Malfoy?"

When they both answered to the affirmative, the other residents of the Tower rushed into the room to find the odd scene. The stranger met the eyes of the two wizards.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, I am Auror—"

"Dean Thomas," Harry finished, marveling.

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Mr. Potter," Dean remarked professionally, without a trace of the everyday familiarity in his voice that Harry was so used to hearing. "You're going to have to come with us."

"What exactly did I do?!" he complained, not moving from his spot.

The second stranger stepped forward. "I am Mark Caldwell from MACUSA. You are under arrest for aiding and abetting a terrorist, and Mr. Malfoy here needs to return to the Wizengamot for a trial."

"Should've known," Tony whispered to Steve, who looked crestfallen.

"What's a Wizengamot?" Clint asked Natasha, who dug her elbow into his ribs, causing him to wince and refrain from speaking.

Suddenly, Draco dropped limply to the floor, groaning, "Wait," before falling unconscious.

Harry gaped at him, unsure of whether it was a joke.

"You're pulling my leg, right? I'm not—you have got to be kidding me," he exclaimed, for he noticed another needle sticking from his upper arm, and promptly passed out.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Opening his eyes, he smiled weakly. "It's déjà vu all over again..."

When nobody answered, Harry found that he was alone. He was sitting in another interrogation room, but in a different place. Harry felt like he was below ground, and the damp scent of the place only seemed to confirm his suspicions.

Looking down, he took note of the fact that he woke up in a chair rather than a bed. _Yes_ , he thought, _this is definitely different. Maybe this is the SHIELD place Na—Romanoff was talking about._

He had only been awake for a minute or so when Mr. Caldwell entered the cell-like room, vial in hand. The clear liquid inside sloshed slightly as the hand moved.

"Veritaserum, Mr. Caldwell?" Harry asked, recognizing the potion.

"Yes," Mark confirmed, tilting the other's head back as he opened his mouth.

Harry made a face as the three drops spread onto his tongue, leaving a slightly bitter taste. "Ugh. Looks like water, smells like water, tastes like someone forgot sugar in your tea."

Mark smiled thinly. "All right, Mr. Potter, let's start with a test question, shall we?"

Not waiting for a response, he began. "What was Albus Dumbledore's favorite jam?"

Immediately, Harry answered, "Raspberry," like expected.

Nodding, Caldwell scribbled something down on a notepad, which reminded Harry strongly of Professor Umbridge. "Let's get down to business," Mark said after a moment.

"There has been a conflicting information input, so we have been questioning people involved in the events of the past week. You, Mr. Potter, are accused by MACUSA of allegedly aiding and abetting a terrorist, by helping said man escape from trial and move illegally to America. Did you do this?"

"No, I did not assist Draco in moving to America. That was entirely legal, and if there aren't any records for him, you might want to consider paper sabotage. Ask Draco about who he consulted when registering for citizenship."

"Do you know Draco Malfoy? If so, in what way?"

"I know him very well; we were rivals in school, but we grew to be friends."

There was a hesitant air to Harry's answer, as though he wasn't telling the whole truth, but the truth nonetheless.

"So you would say that the two of you are close?"

"Yes," Harry answered shortly.

"Is Draco Malfoy a terrorist, and has therefore committed an act or multiple acts of terror?"

"Draco is not a terrorist. His father made him a Death Eater against his will, and his actions were under threat of several deaths, including his own, and a his family's."

"Actions such as?"

"I'm not sure. He never told me, and I respected–still respect his privacy."

Frowning slightly, the man made another note, which made the comparison to that toad of a teacher all the easier.

"We have already questioned Mr. Malfoy—"

"Where is he? What have you done to him?"

Caldwell ignored him completely, continuing, "—and he has already confessed to burning The Patronus café down. Thoughts?"

The question was vague enough to weaken the immediate effects of the Veritaserum, so Harry got off with a half-truth.

"Statute of Secrecy, I suppose. My best guess is that he was covering my tracks."

This was true, but Harry had a small suspicion–if he was perfectly honest, it was more of a hope–that Malfoy had done what he'd done so that Harry could stay with him, too.

In Harry's mind, Mark was beginning to seem like a watered-down version of his old DADA teacher, without the pink fetish or general hate of Harry. The wizard had to remind himself that Caldwell was simply doing his job.

"Is Draco Malfoy overdue for a trial?"

"He has already had a trial. Ask Susan Bones; she was the one who ruled innocence. I even testified for him and his mother, Narcissa Malfoy."

"Is Narcissa Malfoy a terrorist?"

"In her trial, it was proven that while she had joined the Death Eaters, it was unwillingly, and she saved my life, betraying Voldemort in doing so, so no, she is not a terrorist."

"Is Lucius Malfoy a terrorist?"

"He most definitely was. However, he has already had his trial, in which he was convicted and sent to Azkaban. I would not say he is one anymore, rather a former, convicted terrorist."

Mark looked at his watch, clapping his hands together. "Okay, fun's over. We can only keep you here for so long. The effects of the Veritaserum are going to last for a while, but you should be fine."

He stood. "You will be accompanied back to the Tower where you will be held until we have come to a decision. Thank you for your co-operation."

Harry was left in the interrogation room to his own thoughts, until the arrival of two grim-looking guard. Standing, flanked by the men, he gave the room one last sweeping look before exiting.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

The car ride back was rather uneventful. Harry spent his time staring blankly out of the window, which was blocked by the guard on his left.

By the time they had reached the Tower, Harry had realized how stupid he had been. How on Earth had he forgotten about Occlumency? He remembered now that it was the only thing that could combat Veritaserum, and had mentally face-palmed several times during the trip back. *

Finally, the door on the right opened, and Harry exited after the other guard. The pair followed him into the Tower, and back into his old interrogation room, which remained the same.

He sat on his bed, thinking for a minute. It would be so easy just to escape, to Obliviate these muggles and leave, but his magical signature was recognizable by MACUSA now, so his efforts would be in vain.

Reaching into his pocket, he realized that he didn't even have that opportunity, for MACUSA had taken his wand. _Great,_ he thought, irritated. _Just wonderful._

There wasn't even any company. Harry had only himself, and it soon became apparent that he was incredibly boring. Eventually, he started singing little songs to himself, feeling as though he would be sitting there forever.

After two hours or so, he had fallen into a half-asleep, half-awake state that can only be produced out of sheer boredom. His mind was in a stupor, as he slowly drifted off—

 _Clomp, clomp, clomp._ Hurried footsteps sounded from afar, startling Harry out of his daze. The glass wall that constituted his prison was too thick to distinguish more than vague shapes, but Harry couldn't see anybody approaching the hidden entrance.

Two loud thumps were heard outside, and sounds of sliding were followed, almost cartoon-like in its whine. From this, he could assume that the mysterious person or people had taken out the guards.

Suddenly, the wall slid open, and he was engulfed in a tide of bushy brown hair.

"HARRY!" Hermione screeched, nearly crushing the man in her hug.

"'Mione," he mumbled, face buried in her mousy mane. "What are you doing here?" He looked around, searching for a guard. "Did they bring you in, too?"

"We came as soon as we heard," Hermione explained hurriedly, soon joined by her fiancé. "Nobody knows we're here, yet."

"Didn't know the ferret was in the States, though," Ron said, lowering his voice. "Dragged you into trouble too, by the looks of it."

"Ron," Hermione admonished, looking at him reproachfully. The trio decidedly avoided the topic of Draco whenever possible. They all had varying opinions of the man: Ron didn't hate him anymore, but still disliked him strongly; Hermione couldn't just forgive and forget, but she was rather neutral on the matter; and Harry found a friend in him, so it was usually better not to discuss Malfoy at all.

"We wanted to Apparate in, grab you, and get out of dodge, but there's a new policy," the redhead confided, looking rather disappointed.

"And a new Minister of Magic," Hermione added, wringing her hands. "Ansley Matthews. The change was made just yesterday.

"We were held in the Ministry for a day or so. Apparently, all wizarding citizens of Britain can't leave the country unless they work for the Department of International Magical Co-operation. Even then, wands would be confiscated."

"That explains it," Harry mused. "That's why Caldwell took my wand."

"Caldwell?"

"Never mind. Why would Matthews not know about Draco? Why would he order Dean to arrest us?"

"Dunno, mate," Ron contributed helpfully.

"That reminds me," Harry remembered, looking at the pair of them. "How did you get in here, if nobody knows you're here? Magical signatures are detectable."

"No," Hermione corrected, "magical signatures from _wands_ are detectable." She waved something silvery and silky in her hand around. "Your Invisibility Cloak, however, is entirely different." When she received only a shocked expression, she explained, "You left it at Molly's. Maybe next time, I'll keep it and watch you suffer."

"Wow," Ron remarked. "Never knew you were a sadist, 'Mione." This earned him a Tony-like slap upside the head.

"Right, well," Harry began, "we need to grab Draco and get out of here. Maybe we can blend in well enough so that MACUSA can't find us. We'll disappear."

Ron and Hermione's expressions slowly faded, turning sad. "Oh, Harry," Hermione lamented. "We'd love to, but…"

"We have family to look after, mate," Ron explained, eyes guilty and sorrowful. "If we get back in time, they might not catch us. The best we can do is mislead them from across the pond."

The first thing Harry felt was betrayal, however unreasonable. They had done these amazing things, gone on adventures together, even when he didn't want them to. Now, he felt childishly lonely, as though his friends were abandoning him.

Finally, his rational state of mind kicked in. It wasn't fair to drag them into this. They had lives, and a family, which they were already putting at risk to help him, and not only him, but also somebody they formerly despised.

He was about to open his mouth to say he understood, when alarms started to blare, filling the glass room with red light.

Instead, he found himself grabbing the cloak, slinging it over himself and the others, and running as fast as he could down the hallways.

Whipping around a corner, the trio sprinted forward, past several identical glass rooms, all open and completely empty.

Finally, after nearly missing a battalion of guards, they found the exit to the lobby. Hermione and Ron rushed out without a thought—they were pressed for time, after all—but Harry stopped short of the doors.

Once the pair noticed they were visible, they stopped, whirling around.

"Harry, wha—"

Using his training as a Seeker, he tossed the Cloak through the doorway, calling, "I'm sorry," and closing the doors before they could react.

Hollering, "GO!" he took off down the hallways, to the sound of screeching alarms.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

It was safe to say that Steve was still in shock.

"I spent every Sunday with him… for months…" he muttered, head in hands. Soft music from the radio pulsed throughout the room, meant to be calming. It hadn't worked for Thor, apparently, who'd left the room, followed by his brother.

 _Last thing I remember is the freezing cold, water reaching up just to swallow me whole. *_

"Really? We didn't know. It's not like you've already told us five times, or anything," Tony commented under his breath. Nobody even had the strength to reprimand him, and they almost agreed, which was remarkable, to say the least.

"I know, I'm sorry."

 _Hidden in ice for a century, to walk the world again..._

The elevator doors slid open, startling everybody when the director stepped back out.

 _God have mercy on the frozen man._

"I thought you'd blocked him from entering," Bruce remarked to Tony, who replied, "I did," disgruntled.

"They've finished the interrogation," Fury said, sweeping into the room. "Potter and Malfoy are on their way here to be held on Floor 67."

Tony was immediately alert, and indignant. "How come I don't get a say in this?"

Coulson smiled tightly. "Oh, you do, Stark, but we can and will ignore it."

 _My name is William James McPhee, I was born in 1843._

There was a small buzzing, and Phil dug his phone out of his pocket, checking it. "In fact, they're here now. Potter is safe and sound in his cell. Malfoy is just coming in. If they're convicted by the MACUSA organization, they won't see the light of day for a long, long time."

 _I thought it would be nice just to visit my grave, see what kind of tombstone I might have._

"What exactly did they do, sir?" queried Natasha, from where she'd been observing silently.

Fury hesitated for a beat. "You remember the terrorist group Potter mentioned?"

When everybody responded to the affirmative, he continued. "These people were called the Death Eaters, and their leader was Lord Voldemort."

This was met with a small round of sniggering, which was quickly silenced by a one-eyed glare.

 _See here, when I die make sure I'm gone, don't leave 'em nothing to work on._

"Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, and his followers murdered thousands of people over a span of decades. The original conflict started in 1970, and lasted for about a decade, but arose again in 1995, for three years."

 _You can raise your arm, you can wiggle your hand, not unlike myself,  
and you can wave goodbye to the frozen man._

"Some of the most notorious Death Eaters were Bellatrix Lestrange, and the Malfoy family, headed by Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius. His wife and Lestrange were actually sisters."

 _I know what it means to freeze to death, to lose a little life with every breath._

"Draco Malfoy joined the cause, just as his father and mother did, therefore becoming a terrorist. Even though Potter managed to defeat Riddle in a suicide-bombing incident, and Malfoy was a follower, we have received information from the British government that Potter aided the younger Malfoy in avoiding trial, and entering America illegally."

 _To say goodbye to life on earth and come around again…_

"Why, though?" Steve asked. "He was a hero. Why would he do something like that?"

"Who's to say?" Fury shrugged slightly. "Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe Potter was blackmailed. Maybe they're lovers, who knows? Does it really matter, Captain? Why do they matter that much to you?"

Silence filled the room, except for the song, which wound slowly to a close.

 _God have mercy on the frozen man, God have mercy on the frozen man._

Overcome with frustration, Steve's fist pounded the table, making it quake under his wrath, and, standing, he left the room in much the same fashion as the thunder god before him.

The radio stopped, leaving an uneasy silence, and an unsaid question.

 _What happens now?_

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Tony missed the days when he could work in his lab without interruption.

Ever since he'd let these heroes into his tower, into his life, he hadn't had a moment's peace. Finally, after locking the alleged "terrorists" away, he could work on a few projects he'd been leaving in the metaphorical "attic" to gather dust.

This was great. Tony blasted Black Sabbath throughout the lab, simultaneously jamming out and tinkering with the latest design for Clint's hacking arrows. At last, he was able to do what he loved most, away from all other human beings.

At least, he was able to do so for two hours. He was just getting into his "zone", as Pepper had called it, when the screech of alarms cut through his beloved music, causing him to scowl in annoyance.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled at the ceiling, ordering JARVIS to cut the rock song before grumpily exiting his safe haven to face the dreadful world beyond its programmed doors.

 **~PaMF~MINI BREAK~PaMF~**

Steve was rather conflicted.

The song on the radio hadn't helped much, either. Who thought that would be calming? _Maybe I should talk to Bruce_ , he thought. _He seems to have an idea of what calms people down._

Scowling, he sent a pebble at his side careening over New York's skyline.

 _Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, it—he turned out to be a fraud._

He began to wonder just exactly who he could trust.

Steve spent the next hour doodling. There was the team, huddled together in the snow for warmth. There was Tony, sunglasses askew (even though he was indoors), drink teetering precariously in one hand, video game controller in the other. There was Clint, dropping from the vents to surprise Natasha, but miscalculating, and instead startling Bruce. There were the Asgardian brothers, playing chess, and firing light insults at each other while contemplating moves.

Finally, there was Draco, extending his hand to a fallen Harry. Steve, despite his feeling of utter betrayal, still couldn't bring himself to use last names. Instead, he vented his anger into his drawings, creating scenes both real and fictional, recalling both memories and dreams.

It took him two hours to fill up the rest of his sketchbook. Unfortunately, he's spilled some vanilla ice cream on the cover, but at least it smelled nice. Wisely, he's been left alone, and continued to sit on the roof in increasingly peaceful thought, that is until alarms went off, causing him to spill yet more ice cream on his sketchbook.

That was alright. He'd clean it later.

 **~PaMF~MINI BREAK~PaMF~**

Natasha was quickly growing tired of SHIELD's regulations.

For the past few weeks, all she'd been able to do was kidnap civilians, report innocent people, and be useless. It was enough to drive anybody insane.

She missed the days of foreign missions with nobody but Clint. They had orders, and they followed them, but in their own way, and Fury couldn't do a thing about it. Honestly, she was beginning to feel like the villain.

Natasha didn't look like it, but she was a restless person, and decided to go over to SHIELD and find out more about the incidents, and MACUSA.

The trip there was short, and she knew where the security cameras were. The only problem was Clint, who'd tagged along. While he wasn't clumsy, they both knew he wouldn't be dancing in a ballet recital anytime soon. Thus, the pair was slowed down, but made it to the control room with no questions asked.

Natasha and Clint were, after all, some of the highest-ranked agents, and it was an unsaid rule not to mess with them.

Ushering a newbie out of his chair, the woman took over control of the computer, scrolling through files and entering passcodes with practiced ease, finding what she wanted within minutes.

Clicking open the file, the pair huddled protectively over the screen, reading with avid interest.

As the violent, familiar shriek began to sound, the two agents looked at each other, muttering, "Oh my god," in unison.

They abandoned the computer, still open to the file labeled, "Ministry of Magic/MACUSA". Twenty seconds later, the file was wiped, but saved to the drive Natasha had slipped in and out of the control room.

Fury, sitting in his office, noticed nothing.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

 **OH MY GOD I AM SO FREAKING SORRY ON MY KNEES SOBBING SORRY**

 ***ahem* Anyways, yes, I am back from the unknown. Alive. Ish. Which is why this chapter is rushed.**

 **Oh, the** **(mangled, cut-up)** **song was _Frozen Man_ by James Taylor.**

 **I would suggest you check out my profile—not for more story-viewing, but for updates on the current situation. You're most likely to see it there, If you're that kind of person.**

 **THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE**

 **Your humble author,**

 **BoukieToo**


	8. In Which Ideas for Titles Run Out

**Chapter Seven: In Which Ideas for Titles Run Out**

The number of empty cells was beginning to get ridiculous.

Skirting past a guard who was thankfully looking the other way, Harry continued his frantic search for his friend.

Luckily, it didn't take long.

 _Thwack!_ The pair ran straight into each other, careening off to opposite walls. After regaining his bearings, Harry realized that Draco's nose was bleeding from the crash, reminding him of sixth year when Harry himself was on the ground, bleeding and abandoned.

The black-haired wizard stepped forward instinctively, wiping the trickle away, causing the other to wince.

"Gahh, stop," Malfoy gasped, hand covering nose. "We don't have time. Do you know where the exit is?"

That, of course, is when Harry realized that he'd forgotten to keep track of where he'd come from. This did not go down well with the blond.

"You went back for me without remembering the exit?!" Malfoy exclaimed, bloody hand coming up to massage his forehead. "I'm flattered, Potter, but that was so utterly _Gryffindor_ of you." He sighed, looking past an embarrassed Harry, towards a split in the hallways.

"At least we know the exit's that way." Draco tried to look for a bright side, which wasn't exactly his expertise, so instead of wasting time, he took off, hoping Harry would follow. He did.

Reaching the doors without incident was time-consuming, and Malfoy was trailing small droplets of blood behind him, which was an inconvenience when some guards found a part of their route.

Eventually, they lost the sentinels, reaching the doors, and finding the elevator.

The terrible music didn't help.

Sticking to the corner, Malfoy commanded, "When we get out of this, we are moving to Antarctica. Am I understood?"

Harry responded with a weak, "Yes, Professor." Fortunately, Draco didn't have the time to respond, for the elevator doors slid open, and the two made a break for the lobby, uncaring of the people, cameras, or blood.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Tony didn't even want to search for them.

"Come on, we'll just let the rookies deal with it. They've done nothing but damage their own property. Let SHIELD clean up its own messes for once."

"That's not the point," Bruce interjected form his spot. "They're still out there, able to do anything. What if they have weapons? We need to bring them in before they harm somebody."

"Who says they will?" Tony countered. When all he received were dubious looks, he elaborated.

"Just… think about it for a second. These people must be important, right? The little kid had those weird face-changing powers, and the other two definitely could have done something to prevent capture. Why would they go so willingly if they could escape easily… unless…"

"Speaking of crazy people who have capture-fetishes, where's Loki?" Bruce asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Steve chimed in. "Where is everybody?"

Right on cue, the thunder god bounded into the room, followed by an exasperated trickster. Unfortunately, the agents were nowhere to be found.

"I told you," Loki was saying, "I didn't do it…" He trailed off, scanning the room. "Where are Barton and Romanoff?"

"We don't know," Steve said, standing, "but that can wait. The prisoners have escaped. Stark, where were they last?"

"Somewhere around... there." Tony pointed to clarify. "Wait," he remarked, double-checking the screen. "The system's going haywire when I get too close." He tapped the screen. "Not cool. My systems never fail. I made them.

"JARVIS," he whined, staring up at the ceiling. "Fix it."

After a beat, JARVIS replied, _"The interfering energy seems to be similar to that of Mr. Laufeyson's scepter."_

Loki scowled at the inventor, who shrugged sheepishly. "You need to learn to pick up your stuff," was his only explanation. After a slightly awkward silence, the grumpy demigod hadn't broken his gaze, and Tony sighed.

"Look," he explained, "I don't have the Glow-stick of Destiny anymore, okay? Go talk to Director Eye Patch about it; he's the one who keeps confiscating my toys."

Loki huffed in annoyance, appearing to drop the matter. Soon, he left with the excuse of "getting away from the sheer idiocy of this building", as he put it, but as he did, Tony's hair exploded into a patriotic red-white-and-blue mess. Not even his goatee was spared.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

As he left the tower, Loki teleported over to Malfoy Residence, for of course that was where the two wizards were taking shelter.

Watching Harry fruitlessly try to fix Draco's nose with wandless magic, Loki waved a hand, snapping it back in place himself, and causing Harry to grin triumphantly. Malfoy was immediately alarmed, for he knew the other hadn't cast the spell, and leapt to his feet, swearing under his breath.

"What is it?" Harry asked in bewilderment. "I didn't hurt you, did—"

"That spell," Draco yelped, scanning the room for signs of an intruder. "That wasn't you." He ran smack into the living room table and cursed again, wincing. "I knew we shouldn't have gone here."

Harry didn't get it. "Wha—oh…" Finally catching on, he reached for his non-existent wand and began to search the house. As the front door left their sights, it silently opened and closed, as though an invisible someone had just left.

Harry was halfway upstairs when he heard ayelp. Scrambling back down the stairs, he met Draco in the kitchen, where the blond was by the fireplace, scrutinizing a small piece of paper.

Moving behind him, Harry read the note over his shoulder: _You two numbskulls are in the most obvious spot on the planet. Find a place to lay low that's better than in the middle of a bare field riding a white-flag-brandishing bilgesnipe._

Despite the harsh tone, Draco smiled a bit. "I'll give you three guesses as to who this is from."

Without thinking, Harry blurted, "Your godfather."

Surprised laughter bubbled up from Malfoy's chest. Genuine laughter from the man was uncommon those days. Harry chuckled along, wishing he could bottle the sound and keep it with him.

"Try again, Potter, and this time, try someone who's still in the realm of the living," the blond advised, shaking his head.

Harry thought for a second. "And to think, we have proved that this particular species of brooding demigod actually has a soul."

"Debatable," Draco said approvingly. "I think your pathetic doe eyes just melted his frosty heart." "Shut up, Ferret." "No chance, Scarhead. Can I be the best man at your wedding?" "No. You'll be the maid of honor." "So you're the bride, then. You look good in white."

The two both stopped talking abruptly, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.

"Right…" the two said at the same time, pausing, and then trying again.

"We should pack your stuff—" "We should leave—"

Harry pressed his argument. "Dr— _Malfoy_ , this is your stuff. Let's get it together and then leave. You have wards on this place; we have time. Besides," he coaxed, looking the other up and down, "knowing you, you'll panic when you realize how incredibly Muggle your clothing is."

Draco inspected himself, coming to the same conclusion. "All right, but just a few hours," he grumbled, tension falling away from his shoulders. "Don't place too much faith in the security measures; you might recall the Weasley-Delacour wedding."

Harry grimaced at the memory, heading back upstairs. "I call first shower!" he hollered, hoping the water would wash away the grab-bag subject of weddings. The other simply sighed, shaking his head at Harry's lightheartedness, but couldn't help the small grin on his face. _How very Gryffindor._

Escaping the piercing gaze of the blond, Harry decided to explore like he once did at Grimmauld Place. _Draco won't mind,_ he thought, slightly guilty. All of the doors were a blank, dull black with tarnished knobs. Harry wondered how Draco could remember what was in each room.

Finally giving in to temptation, he chose a door at random, and twisted the knob. With a little _click,_ the door swung open.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

The star-spangled billionaire was met with a snort of laughter from Thor, small chuckling from Steve, and even a flash of a smile from Bruce. "What?" he asked ignorantly, looking around. His gaze locked on the only other person in the room, and the most likely suspect.

Loki looked back at him innocently, tilting his head slightly. It was an intentional dead giveaway. Tony just sighed, vowing silently to get back at him later for whatever he'd done.

Suddenly, a crash could be heard from the air vent above, and it gave way, allowing Clint to unceremoniously tumble from the opening. Natasha dropped gracefully after him, dusting him off with a maternal exasperation. Awkward silence ensued, and though the pair didn't seem to care about their abrupt appearance, the others needed a moment to process it.

"So, Friend Stark," Thor asked, breaking the silence, "any luck with your tracking system device?"

"Zip, zero, and nada," Tony replied, running fingers through his unkempt patriotic. "I just don't get it." (He thought he heard something like a sarcastic "My god, he's been stumped!" from Clint's direction.) "It would just be easier to give it up altogether."

"So that's what we'll do," Steve piped up, and immediately was overcome by the sea of comments and questions. Managing to stay afloat, he yelled, "HEY!"

They settled down, but rather reluctantly, as was evidenced by the frowns each teammate wore.

"Do you honestly think they're going to pull anything?" he asked softly. "They haven't done anything to resist until now and probably aren't even dangerous people."

His eyes glazed over slightly. "All we have to do is say that we couldn't find them, or found them dead, and let them go."

Clint scoffed. "You're blinded by your sense of trust. The government arrested them, SHIELD wants them for some reason or other, and—"

"I agree with the Captain!" Thor boomed over the archer, followed by a similar response form Loki. If anybody thought the abrupt support was suspicious, they didn't mention it.

"All right, we'll settle this the traditional way," Tony announced. "All those in favor of being honorable and going after the escapees?"

Natasha and Clint raised their hands.

"All those in favor of lying to Eye Patch and letting them be free to pay for their own ice cream?"

Steve, Thor, Loki, and Tony himself raised their hands. (It was rare to find something that the brothers or Steve and Tony agreed upon.) Bruce didn't vote, but his opinion wouldn't have mattered anyways.

"Majority rules!" Tony chirped triumphantly. He rubbed his hands together. "So, now that the boring stuff's out of the way, the lab's calling my name. Bruce?"

"Well, as much as I'd like to join you, you might want to check a mirror first."

A minute later, frantic screaming broke out on Tony's floor, and the others fell into peals of laughter. Loki just grinned to himself, an old light flickering in his eyes.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

Draco's room was much smaller than Harry had imagined.

It was organized to the point of which the intruder wanted to mess things up a little, and rather dim. The walls were a soft, slippery gray, and the carpet an emerald green. The bed followed the color scheme. Draco's closet was still full, as were his drawers, and by the bed stood a matching nightstand and lamp.

As Harry lit said lamp, the room was illuminated in a soft, candlelit glow. It suddenly looked more homey rather than rigid. He stood still, inhaling the scent that lingered on the pillow, and wafted from the drawers.

He imagined the young man leaning on the headboard in the dead of night, devouring a novel from the small bookshelf near the window by the light of the lamp beside him, or perhaps sketching the Hogwarts castle, and basking in the warmth of the afternoon. He saw Draco pacing, almost wearing a hole in the floorboards, and writing a letter in the sharp, slightly slanted writing Harry admired when he got the chance to see it, which wasn't often.

He whirled around as the door opened, and Draco froze in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here?" the blond asked slowly, edging into the bedroom.

"Err—nothing… wrong room," Harry stammered, brushing past his former enemy and out into the hallway, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Malfoy was left staring into his own room. Potter obviously _hadn't_ stumbled into the wrong room, judging by his reaction upon being caught.

It was odd to see the Gryffindor in such a Slytherin space, like it would be to see him in the Common Room, or—Merlin forbid—Draco's dorm in Hogwarts. The blond stood in the threshold for another second, freezing time to that one image of Harry lost in thought, then dismissed it, giving himself a mental shake.

 _Stop,_ he reprimanded, _that was a long time ago. He doesn't like blokes… right?_

 _He didn't say that when you teased him about marrying Loki,_ a traitorous voice retorted inside his mind. _He didn't deny it._

 _He went out with that Cho Chang._

 _And you saw how well_ that _endeavor went._

 _What about the Weaselette?_

 _What about her? Didn't she dump him too?_

 _He proposed to her. He likes girls; that's all there is to it. Get yourself together, Draco, and move on. Stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl._

Yet, all Draco could think about was that fateful moment when they'd met in the park, only a few days ago. It felt like ages, what with all of the kidnapping and running that had been going on.

The wizard moved to sit on his bed to ponder, unintentionally mimicking the young man that plagued his thoughts.

Questions swirled around him: _Why?_ Why was Harry in his room in the first place? _When?_ When had this feeling he'd had so long ago resurfaced? _Where?_ Where were they supposed to hide?

He decided to focus on the latter query. Draco knew a nice place in France where he used to visit on holiday, but that was out for two reasons: France was too close and likely if the Ministry decided to go hunting, and Harry couldn't speak French. That was bound to be a situation.

After several minutes of consideration, he narrowed down his choices: Muggle Britain (if the theory of 'hiding in plain sight' was to be believed), Australia, or—like he'd said before—Antarctica.

This last option was out of the question, but it would make an amusing joke, if he ever found the time for such.

" _DRACO!"_

His heart stopped. The voice was one of full-blown panic, and Harry Potter was never scared. He was a bloody Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. If something was frightening him badly enough to call him by his first name, well, Draco had better come running.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

" _It is done, Master."_

 _A man straightened from his kneeling position, avoiding the burning eyes of the man sitting before them._

 _A purple hand drummed its fingers against the golden arm of a magnificent throne. There was no light source, but somehow the seat of power held a sinister gleam. A voice rasped from everywhere and nowhere._

" _Find the boy. Bring him to me."_

 _The man glanced up nervously, before averting his eyes hastily, letting out a squeak of submission._

" _Y- yes, Master Thanos. I will not fail you."_

 _His voice quavered feebly under Thanos' echoing sound: "No, you will not fail me. You know what happens to those who fail me, do you not? You have seen them, yes? Their fate?" The voice scoffed. "Their… punishment?"_

 _Thanos paused, relishing the word like a child savoring a lollipop. He could just taste the defeat, the submission that was rolling in waves off this mortal. He reveled in it, felt the will leaching from the man's mind, pooling at his feet._

" _They have already escaped from mortals much smarter than you, several times. They will not slip from your fingers again, will they?"_

 _The kneeling mortal quivered. "No, Master Thanos." He kept his head low as he made to exit from the chamber._

"… _Did I dismiss you?" The voice was uncharacteristically quiet, but sharp as the terror that plunged its way into the mortal's heart._

 _Instantly, he whirled around, sinking to the floor. "N- no, Master Thanos. I apologize. I will not do so again."_

"… _Good. Now leave me. Your incessant stuttering irritates me to no end._

" _Mortals," he muttered as the man left, traumatized and shaky. "So pathetic. So weak… yet the boy—both of them, maybe—could be an asset."_

Ah, yes, _he thought, letting his gaze lose focus in favor of beautiful, destructive imagery,_ what with the boy so close to Lady Death, and the other so fueled by hatred, by anger.

They will make the perfect gifts for Hela when the time is right.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

As he burst into the bathroom, Draco was met with a queer sight.

Poor Harry was huddled on top of the sink, clad in nothing but a towel, and aiming a bottle of shampoo at a black object in the shower.

Normally, Draco would have been rather flustered by the other's appearance, but now wasn't the time, so he reached for his wand—

—and remembered he didn't have one, grabbing his shoe instead. He raised it threateningly, ready to hurl it at the imminent danger.

It was a spider.

Draco couldn't help it; he cracked up, nearly falling over. Relief flooded him, and he couldn't suppress his— well, he guessed he could call them giggles, even though he would deny it to this day.

Harry pouted, but remained on the sink all the same as Draco levitated the offending arachnid. He opened a window, and let it out. It landed safely in a sparse patch of grass, scuttling off to frighten its next victim.

"I thought it was Weasley who was afraid of spiders," Draco remarked after regaining his composure.

Harry shook his head slightly, eyeing the window, just in case. "Ever since second year, I've never been able to see them in the same way."

Half of Draco wanted to ask exactly what had happened in second year, but he refrained when he abruptly came to terms with Harry's noticeable lack of clothing.

Suddenly very self-aware, he backed out of the room hastily. "I- I'll leave you to it, then."

He retreated, catching a "Thanks!" tossed carelessly out of the door. It was soon replaced by the rush of water. Draco continued to his room, shaking his head in embarrassment.

 _What am I going to do with him?_

*heh heh, fun time-skip thingy*

Draco was rather proud of his house, and was a little sad to leave, but simply took one last look around the place. Harry just grabbed all he could, and

When the pair was finally ready to go, Draco called Harry down to the kitchen.

"Have you got everything?" "Yes, _Mum._ Merlin, you sound like Molly."

The blond refrained from retorting, instead tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace. Just as he was about to step into the roaring flames, the front door opened.

Fearing the worst, the pair slipped into the fire just as a kindly voice called, "Draco, darling, is that you?"

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

The next few months were eerily uneventful, if one could count being either on the run from both wizarding and muggle law enforcement or being Earth's mightiest heroes _uneventful_.

Harry and Draco stuck to isolated towns, disguising themselves as best they could, and doing their best to avoid people in general. It reminded Harry of his year on the run just before the Battle of Hogwarts.

Draco disliked the conditions in which they were living, but definitely preferred it to whatever sentence he would've been likely to get in Azkaban. Even the thought of sharing the same fate as Lucius made him shudder.

The nightmares didn't help, but they were to be expected. It wasn't as though the two wizards were eager to confront their pasts, especially not with each other. Harry didn't even know where he stood with the Slytherin; he liked to think that they were friends, but then instantly wondered whether it was all in his head, as Draco was the only person he really interacted with nowadays.

The Avengers were much better off, but now constantly on guard for an attack. It was too calm around the Tower, and while most would use the time to relax, it didn't stop Loki from taking the opportunity to make each consecutive team member jump as he silently entered a room.

Tony hardly seemed affected, and kept to his workshop, only slipping out once in a blue moon to snatch some junk food or sit on the roof ledge. The only time anybody visited him was when JARVIS considered his time in there a health hazard. The team always seemed to volunteer the captain to tuck him into bed, but Steve had no idea why. As far as he was concerned, they weren't all that best of pals. The pair continued to bicker so often that they were most likely to be found looking stormy and refusing to so much as glance in the other's direction.

Clint and Natasha had disappeared for a week. Nobody had actually known where they went, but it had been highly suspected that they were running a mission in Romania. When the agents reappeared, they answered no questions, and the team slowly collapsed back into anxious boredom.

After another month passed, the brothers left for Asgard for some complication in Loki's sentence. The rest were stuck in the Tower with absolutely nothing to do.

Steve was using this time to catch up to all of this new modern slang and media. It most certainly didn't help that Tony was constantly manufacturing all sorts of wacky devices to further his otherwise general laziness.

Bruce was taking an online course to get into medical school so that he could be of help on the sidelines when the Hulk wasn't needed. To be perfectly honest, it also meant that he would stop hearing, "Are you even a _real_ doctor?" simply because he wasn't trained in the medical sciences.

Natasha was training some new recruits back at SHIELD H.Q., and Clint had disappeared. Most speculated that he was hiding in the vents from his formidable partner, and none blamed him, especially when she was found cross-legged atop the refrigerator one tired morning, sharpening one of her knives nonchalantly.

All in all, everybody had settled into a state of monotony that was rarely seen around people like them, and an uneasy feeling was creeping over them.

They were right to think that way.

 _The Mad Titan had awoken, and his wrath would shake the Nine Realms to their cores._

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

 **So… guess who's not dead… *ducks behind rock as fireballs are hurled at me***

 **You guys have no idea how absolutely sorry I am, and I'm writing a make-up chapter for When In Doubt to try to repent for my grievances.**

 **Seriously, I'm a soulless monster. Speaking of, I was late to the fandom, but UNDERTALE. If you are also late to the fandom, I recommend playing the video game for yourself or, if you're broke, watching somebody play it because it is FABULOUS.**

 **For the love of Thor and all things Loki, I haven't updated since January. JANUARY.**

 **Well, here it is, and I hope you can forgive me enough to stop throwing fireballs.**

 **Your humble author,**

 **BoukieToo**


	9. In Which- well, see for yourself

**Chapter Eight: In Which Months Pass, and An Author Makes an Announcement**

 **(If you have any interest in the future of this story, please read the author's note at the end. It's important. Or insignificant… you can choose.)**

Something was off.

Draco knew it from the first week after he and Harry had fled his house. All the free time of guarding each other gave plenty of opportunities to reflect on the whole crazy encounter.

It all seemed so wrong, in retrospect. Why had they played along? Sure, it would've kept a cover of innocence, but that was useless after being caught anyways. Furthermore, the whole experience seemed hazy in his memory, like a childhood friend or the name of the seventh Minister of Magic. He could try using a Pensieve, but those were out unless he could find a safe house in the magical community—and a wand. So far, that had been a no-go, as the Granger-Weasley household had their own affairs, and none of Draco's friends were ready quite yet to associate with anybody else, especially a Malfoy.

 _It's nothing personal,_ they'd said. _It's just—that name doesn't exactly inspire confidence at dinner parties, you understand?_

The sad thing was, he did. He also knew that Harry wouldn't let anybody else into this mess. The Gryffindor, after all, had no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. It made for an… _interesting_ few months. The only remotely safe spaces were in dingy hotels in small towns, where the news was rarely watched and people asked no questions.

When Draco himself had commented on the quality of their living space, Harry had remarked that it beat living under the stairs. That shut him up for a long time.

At least the rooms had two beds.

Money, of course, still posed a problem. Draco had converted a considerable stash of wizarding money into muggle money earlier in the year, just in case, but it was running out, and they had no way of getting any more from his bank.

Their latest hideout was a usually vacant hotel—inn was really a better word—in a little town in Nebraska. The place had once been relatively busy, for there was a historic site not too far away. Nobody was exactly sure what it had been, but it was made clear by the "historical experts" that had examined it that the wood of which it was made was very old. It had also rotted, and was unsafe to approach. It had been to the town as the Shrieking Shack was to Hogsmeade. Unfortunately, a fire had destroyed the (little) prosperity of the town and a few other buildings.

"Potter?"

"…"

"Potter? Can you hear me?" No response.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry!"

Suddenly, the young man snapped out of his daze. "Whaa-?" His glazed eyes attempted to lock onto Draco's irritated face. "If you could pull your head out of the clouds for a second," it was saying, "I was asking about our financial situation."

"F-finance… situation…" It was evident to the blond-haired man that Harry was losing it.

"Yes, you dolt! We're down to our last pennies! I don't know about you, but I certainly wouldn't prefer to sleep under a newspaper on a park bench."

He studied the dazed young man briefly. "Did you get any sleep at all?" he asked dryly. When the only reply was incoherent mumbling, he cried, "What were you doing for the past eight hours? Skylarking with the fairies?"

He really must've been out of it. He couldn't even muster up a "Shove off, Malfoy." Sighing, Draco laid out his ultimatum. "Listen, Potter, I need you to be able to use at least half of your brain as soon as you can, so you can either go upstairs and get some sleep, or you can continue socializing with the wallpaper and neither of us will be able to afford food for the next month, let alone rent."

The exhausted wizard grunted his acceptance, but when he attempted to stand, his body swayed drunkenly to the side and he unceremoniously dumped himself on top of Draco.

Malfoy wasn't taking that in the slightest. He half-dragged, half-carried Harry up the stairs of the inn, and flung the living ragdoll onto his bed, winded. "Merlin, Potter, how heavy can you get?"

It was no use. The savior of the wizarding world was beginning to drool on his pillow.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

A bump. A human screech. A plug pulled. The flick of a switch.

"What are you doing at three in the morning making smoothies?!"

"I believe you just answered your own question."

"Then why were the lights off?"

"I have night vision."

"If you have night vision, then how did you not see me?"

"I have selective night vision."

"It's too early in the morning for this. Go to sleep."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm making smoothies."

"And what is so important about these smoothies that they have to be made at 3:00 in the morning?"

"They're special smoothies."

"What even- never mind. I'm going back to bed, and you should too. At the very least, stop using the blender."

"Will do, oh captain my captain. Sweet dreams."

Grumbling. A retreat. A pause. The hesitant whirr of machinery. Footsteps. The thunk of fist on blender. Silence.

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

He was facing one of the toughest challenges of his life, and he felt utterly helpless.

He stared it down intently, examining every option. It returned his gaze evenly, disregarding the agitation of the man sitting before it. Then, with seemingly random abandon, he brought his weapon down and struck.

Name: Draco Malfoy

Street Address: XXX XXXXX Road

City, State: XXXXXX, NE

Zip Code: 68XXX

Professional Experience: N/A

Education: …

Additional Skills: bilingual in English and French

There was so little Draco could do to make himself sound professional. He figured "took violin lessons for a few years" and "is capable of functioning in society" wouldn't exactly inspire confidence in his potential employers. Then there was the matter of education. What was he to say?

Education: Homeschooled

 _Nailed it._

There weren't even recommendations to back him up. At this point, it would be easier to rob a bank.

"What's that?" a sleepy voice asked.

"Oh, look who returned to the land of the living," sneered Draco. "If you are awake enough to pester me with questions, you can fill out a resume."

"What for?"

"Oh, you know, hunting elephants."

"Someone's moody. Why don't you just take a break?"

That was it. He snapped.

"In case you've forgotten, we have barely a cent to spare since neither of us are employed and because I have to do everything, I've taken the first step towards solving that problem by attempting to make us look like _anything_ other than wand-wielding fugitives with no talent in the Muggle world whatsoever so _excuse me_ if I'm a bit moody. 'Take a break'? Sure, fine! I'll take a nice little nap and let the all-powerful _savior of the wizarding world_ handle it! I'm sure he'll make all of my problems disappear because that's just how perfect he is!"

At this point, Harry was both fully awake and fully terrified.

"If you have some miracle solution hidden up your sleeve, Potter, now would be a fantastic time to procure it because I have absolutely no idea what I am doing and you're just sitting there while I am being driven into madness by a piece of bloody paper! What is your suggestion, your advice, your miraculous escape plan this time? The greatest wizarding hero vanquished by the struggle of everyday life. How poetic."

Draco lost steam, and he slumped onto his bed, spent from his tantrum.

"Sorry."

He lifted his head from where it had been buried in his pillow. "What?"

"I- I'm… sorry. I didn't realize, I just-sorry."

He looked Harry up and down in disbelief, scanning him for any sign of insincerity. He didn't look insincere, though, just ashamed.

"I mean, for what it's worth, I can cook… well, cook-ish…"

"You know what," Malfoy began, and then sighed, pushing his head back into the pillow. Despite the muffled words, his message was clear. "I can't hate you."

Harry waited, staring at the floor. He figured it would be best not to talk at that moment.

"Even after Hogwarts, after the war, after Weas- Ginny, after that whole fiasco in New York, after _this_ … I can't even stay mad at you. Don't look at me like that," he added, as the other's face lit up. "You're not off the hook."

"I'm not?"

"No. Finish this for me. I'm taking a break." With that, the tension faded from the room. Harry let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Sure thing, Draco."

 **~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~**

 **To everyone who made it this far,**

 **I haven't been able to come to terms with my own laziness and disinterest. I didn't think about what not updating did for those who actually took the time to read and enjoy what I offered. There will never be enough apologies I could make, so I will make none.**

 **I thought about maybe going on hiatus, but that is a cop-out, and you deserve better. For a long time, my strategy has been to ignore the problem, but that isn't fair. I need to take responsibility for my inaction.**

 **I cannot say or promise anything without feeling like I am lying, so I won't. All I have left to give is this poor excuse for a chapter, and to be honest, that's probably going to be it for a long time… perhaps forever.**

 **I can't keep any person's hopes up. There shouldn't and won't be any more expectations for this story, as much as I hate to admit it. Maybe I'll update once in a blue moon, but there is not much more I can do. I have no ideas for a plot, character development, or anything at all. I'm detached.**

 **The thing is, and this is in no way any sort of excuse, writing is hard, and that's why I respect writers so much. It wouldn't be fair to them to pretend that I am anywhere near their level if I don't even write myself, so I will continue to improve in the meantime.**

 **In short, thank you so much for all of the support and love. No promises can be made, no apologies can be sincere enough, but my gratitude is whole-hearted.**

 **I hope to have the pleasure of writing for you again soon. Happy holidays!**

 **Your humble author,**

 **BoukieToo**


	10. In Which A Farewell (kinda) Is Made

**A Farewell (Kinda)**

 **Okay, confession time: I personally do not have the drive to continue writing this story, but the lovely Sayomina has offered to continue it! A link to their profile is listed below:**

 **w w w. fanfiction.(delete me please)net/** **u/7248483/ (Remove spaces and parentheses)**

 **So I guess this is farewell for now. Thank you all so much for everything you've given to both this story and me. I have every faith that Sayomina will bring Productivity and Marshmallow Fluff to another level, so please support them in the meantime.**

 **Adieu! Parting is such sweet sorrow~**

 **Your humble author,**

 **BoukieToo**


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